Starting Anew
by Yorutsuki-Lunia
Summary: After losing his father in the event of the Dread Doctor, Stiles is now an orphan and it is a good thing his Uncle Phil is there to save him before he went too deep. Deciding that need Stiles needed a change of scenery so that he could heal, to be away from things that reminded him of his lost. Phil took him away because he needed a new place to have a fresh start. To start anew.
1. Chapter 1

**Yep another crossover from me. This one have a character death so turn back if it's not your cup of tea. Not beta read and I haven't watched Teen Wolf yet. Just read the fan fictions**

Stiles knew this day would come sooner or later, what with his dad being the Sheriff of the town and all but he would rather it be way later where he is more prepared for it. Even if he would never be prepared to relieve the experience of seeing another black coffin being lowered into the ground. Never in a thousand year would he be prepared to once again stand in the cemetery, clad in a black suit that signified his mourning as the coffin that contained his dad's body was lowered into the ground, to be buried six feet under beside the grave that belonged to the love of his life.

Yet despite his best wishes, it still happened no matter what he had done to prevent it.

His dad is now dead and the worst part of it is because it was his fault. It was him whom Theo was after and his dad was the main piece that have to go in order for Theo achieve his objective of obtaining Void Stiles. Stiles could not help but think he was not that far from the truth because his dad had been his tether to his sanity after losing his mother. So going after his dad had been the easiest way for Theo to achieve his goal of drawing out the darkness inside of Stiles.

Never had he felt this lost. It was easier to deal with the death of his mother when his dad was there to support him but now he is in the same spot once again. Only this time, it is for his dad's funeral instead and he have no one to support him this time around. His dad was the stone that had anchored him to the living after his mother's death, the reason why Stiles had continued on living despite the crippling lost and now that the tether that bind him had been severed, Stiles is drifting away.

He is officially an orphan now and the world suddenly felt bleak.

He felt so numb as he stood over the polished wood of the coffin that contained the lifeless body of his father. The eyes that used to glimmer with mischief and mirth are now devoid of it, appearing as corrosive rust instead of the usual shade of molten amber. He could feel it, the gaping chasm that had opened in his chest. It left him feeling breathless and empty with nothing to fill it once again after having the warmth be ripped away so cruelly.

The funeral was a grand thing, a formal funeral with full honors, as expected for someone of his father's station, more so when he had died in the line of duty. Many people had attended it to give their final respect to the meritorious Sheriff that had served the public well. Condolence upon condolence were offered by those who attended and Stiles was too numb to really care about appearing as rude to them for not giving the appropriate reaction to them. He is just sick of the pitying look people sent his way.

He was glad though, for the presence of his father's deputies during the funerals. Most of them are people he had grown up around. They had seen him toddling around the station in only his diapers and some had even changed said diapers when his dad was out. They knew he needed his space to mourn for his father's death, so they had kept the well-wishing people at bay as Stiles gave his father his last respect.

Stiles wanted to cry. He wanted to rage about the unfairness of the situation. He wanted to chase all of these people away so that he could openly cry out his grieve in peace. But he held all of it in, all of these conflicting emotions that tore him apart from the inside because he knew that nothing would change. Even if he had cried himself dry or if his tears turned into blood, his dad would not return to life. Nothing would change even if he tore his throat from screaming.

So he is left with feeling empty, too tired to move on from the crippling blow of not only losing his mom but his dad too. Standing in front of the open casket, Stiles trailed the deceptively peaceful face of his father with his eyes, noting all of the lines and wrinkles that had appeared due to age and many sleepless nights of going through countless case files in order to make Beacon Hills a safe place to live in.

Stiles had seen this face morphing into varying types of expressions; from blinding happiness to heart wrenching sorrow. He had been there to witness his father being at the top of his life, at his peak and Stiles had also been there to bear witness of him being at his lowest. Stiles was more than aware that his dad was not perfect and he also knew that he tried to be so, to do better so that he can fix the damages he had done during his drunken grieving for his wife's death.

He loves his father and Stiles knew that this feeling was mutual because his dad always tried to show that he does cares for him.

Yet after that one fateful night in the wood, everything had changed for them. The white lies and omission of small miscellaneous details turned into outright lies and Stiles could not stop it once he started. He lied to keep his father safe, so that he would not be dragged into the supernatural mayhem when he already had so much on his plate to begin with. So he lied and lied until he does not know which one was the truth and which one was the lie anymore.

But despite all of his efforts keep him out, his dad always managed to get involved somehow, either due to his duty as a Sheriff or because Stilinski men seems to have rotten luck. They are either the cause of the troubles or are too nosy to keep their nose out of other's business. They are nosy bastard after all, such was said by those who know them or were exposed to their existence. But it looks like this time was one too many and his father had finally run out of luck to come out of it with his live.

Smiling blithely at the notion of them being nosy bastard, Stiles sank to his knees in front of the polished wood that contained the lifeless body of his father. He stared at the lax face for a long moment, trying to imprint the peaceful expression of his dad for the last time before he is buried six feet under beside his mother.

"I hope you're happy up there dad. You really deserved it. Tell mom I love her."

Feeling his breath hitching, his voice trailed off as his throat constricted painfully, preventing him to say anything else due to the emotions welling up in his chest. A burning sensation spread over his chest and Stiles squeezed his eyes shut as he balled his fingers into tight fists over the edge of the coffin, gripping the solid wood like a lifeline.

He is aware of what is happening, well used to the telltale signs of an incoming panic attack but he cannot let it consume him, not yet. There are just so many things he wanted to tell his dad, thing that he had not gotten the chance to say, things that he does not have the courage to tell him about. He has to say it now because this is the last chance he has to say it to his face, even if his dad is dead. He just need to have the closure now before it is too late.

Minutes passed and managed to get himself under control once again. Letting out a soft exhale of shuddering breath, he unfurled the balled fingers to lay it flat over his father's unmoving chest. Just for a brief moment, he wished for it to still be rising up and down, drawing in breath that signified that he is alive but such was an empty wish. Taking in a couple of deep fortifying breath, Stiles opened his eyes again to gaze at his father's serene face. His eyes stung with unbidden tears because this hurts. It hurts so much that it is just too painful to breath normally.

"I love you dad, both you and mum so much that it hurts." Biting on the inside of his cheeks, Stiles struggled to keep the feeble control he has over his emotions.

"What should I do dad? I don't know where to start. I can't live without you dad. Please dad. I need you." He was already breathing through his mouth, trying to get in as much oxygen as possible into his suddenly collapsing lungs. He is left gasping desperately through the tears that burned his eyes.

"It should had been lying here today dad. I was the one who he was after. It was supposed to be me dad, not you." Because it should be him in that coffin, it was meant to be him to begin with. So why does life have to be so cruel on putting the one thing he cared for in that wooden structure?

"It's my fault that you died dad. All of these are my faults. I'm sorry dad. I'm so sorry for everything."

For lying to him.

For getting into trouble.

For making him worry all the time.

For going against his father's words

For being a bad son.

Despite his best attempt to hold it in, to keep the tears at bay, it still falls down in big fat droplets that stained the pristine suit his father was dressed in, the same one his father had worn for his mother's funeral. And that reminder sting. He silently cried over his father's body, body shivering from the force of the sobs that he tried to muffle. He did not make any noise, just letting the tears flow out from his grieving heart.

Stiles completely ignored the world around him as he cried his heart out.

He ignored the pitying looks that people sent his ways.

He ignored their murmured words of sympathy.

He ignored their offers of comfort.

He ignored all of it because all that had mattered to him is currently lying cold in this wooden coffin and about to be buried six feet under beside his mother. Nothing else held meaning anymore because the one thing that had kept him alive to this point are now dead. His pillar of support had crumbled and he is left flailing like a newborn fawn as his world crumbled to pieces around him.

There would be no more cooking up a healthy meal for his father. There would be no more bickering with his father about eating healthy. There would be no more scolding from his dead for staying up late. There would be no more of the warms hug that shielded him from the world when his nightmares haunted him. There would be no more of that small smile that never failed to make him feel so loved. There would be no more of the light crinkling around his father's eyes that showed just how proud his dad is of him.

And there would be no more of forehead kisses when his father went to check up on him after getting back from a late night shift.

All of that had come to an end with the death of his dad. Stiles is devastated because all he had left in this world was his dad and now he lost him too. He is an orphan and he had been there to witness the death of both of his parents, to see the life fading away from their eyes as they heaved their last breath. He is barely out of his teenage life and he is already so alone in this world, already so much.

Amidst his grief and dwindling dark thoughts, he jolted up in surprise when a hand settled at the back of his neck, a familiar gesture that his parents used to do in order to calm him down whenever he was worked up or at the edge of a panic attack. The weight of the hand was distinctly familiar and it tickled at the edge of his childhood memories. The thumb rubbing circles into the taut muscles of his neck managed to sooth the tension out of him is also something that are familiar to him. There's only one other person who had ever done this to him other than his parents and that person is his mother's brother.

Stiles did not bother to turn around in order to face him nor did he bother to stand up and greet him properly. If anything, Stiles just sagged under the hand that are doing wonder to his neck and leaned against the pair of legs that he knew belonged to his uncle. No words were exchanged between them despite it had been years since they had last physically seen each other because for some reason; his uncle always managed to understand the words that Stiles had left unspoken.

And Stiles is very grateful of it right now. He does not want to speak so soon after crying his eyes out over his deceased father. Closing his eyes, Stiles rubbed his tearstained cheek against the pant of the leg he is leaning against, staining the fabric with his drying tears. The hand on his neck tightened briefly but it did not set off the alarms Stiles' head because Stiles knew his uncle would never do anything to harm him. It relaxed just as soon as it tightened and the hand moved up to smooth out the wild mane that is Stiles' hair. The two of them stayed like that for a couple of minutes and Stiles tuned out the words spoken by his uncle to his father, already knowing what he is talking about and letting his uncle have the privacy of giving his final respect to his dad.

"Stiles." His uncle called for his attention and Stiles merely hummed absent mindedly as the fingers in his hair soothed him.

"Do you want to come live with me?"

The question brought up many prospects to him, opening many doors for him to start anew, to finally get out of this accursed town that had taken away so many things from him and leave behind all of the painful memories that continue to haunt him. Thinking about it, it is surprising just how easily it had been for him to take a shine to the idea of leaving this town, his home, his childhood world behind. Perhaps it is because there is nothing more that chained him to this town.

Yes, he would miss Melissa because that woman is practically his second mother growing up and he would even miss Scott too. Despite what had happened between them during Theo's agenda, Scott is still first and foremost his best friend, his brother. He would definitely miss Lydia because she will forever be the only girl he had loved, even if that love is now more of a familial love and also the ragtag group of teenagers he called pack. The thought of leaving them behind actually hurt because he cared for them but Stiles cannot stay in this town anymore.

He cannot live in the town that reminded him so much of what he had lost. At every corner of the town, he could see the ghosts of the memories he had made with his parents and it would definitely drive him crazy if he stayed in the house that are just so full of his memories of his parents. He needed a change of scenery so that he could heal, to be away from things that reminded him of his lost. He needed a new place to have a fresh start.

So with a timid nod, he accepted the offer made by his uncle.

 **Leave a review on your way out!**


	2. Chapter 2

**So yeah, I kinda forgot to update despite already finishing a couple of chapters on it. I am so sorry and please don't kill me!**

The news came to him when he was in the middle of debriefing the Avengers from their latest mission, smiling indulgently at the chaos that unraveled around him since he had long since given up trying to organize this group of overgrown heroes.

It came in the form of Maria Hill, whose face is set in a grim line that appeared grimmer than it usually was. And that seemed to be enough to make the rowdy heroes quiet up, their boisterous chatters being hushed to a lull as the woman made her way toward Phil with quick but efficient stride.

She did not say anything, not that she need to when she held out an envelope that had its seal broken. Any other person would have been livid at the break of privacy but Phil trust Maria enough to not mind it and she would not look this grim if whatever that is in the envelope is something good.

Phil took the pristine white envelope from her with a nod of his head in thanks and flipped it over to see the back. There was an elegant and neat handwriting of his name at the back of it and Phil noted it to belong to a woman from the slight cursive to it. Glancing at Nick from the corner of his eyes, he could see the man looking at the envelope with an unnerving kind of intensity that set off the alarm in his head. The same could be said about the heroes, whose eyes are also locked on the envelope like it contained the secret of the world.

So with daunting wariness, he opened the envelope and pull out a folded piece of paper that appeared thick from whatever it is that was placed in between the folded pieces. Unravelling the fold, a card of fake gold embroidery slid into his palm and the paper have the same handwriting as the one on the envelope. Opting to read the card first before reading the letter, Phil shuffled it so that the card is on top.

Reading the content of the card, Phil froze in his spot as his brain tried to process just what he had read.

 _You are cordially invited to the attend the honorary funeral of_

 _Johnathan 'Matthew' Stilinski_

 _Sheriff of Beacon Hills County_

Feeling his breath hitching and Phil tightened his grip on the papers in his attempt to be in control of himself. Phil knew this letter would arrive sooner or later since he himself understand just how dangerous it is to be the servant of the law, to be in the line of fire on the field during duty. But he did not expect to receive this letter so soon.

His mind immediately went to John's and his sister's son, his nephew. Phil knew the boy would be no older than 17 this year, barely into the cusp of adolescent yet he had lost both of his parents. He could only imagine just what his nephew must have been feeling right now, to lose everything so early in his life when he is barely old enough to be considered an adult.

"Phil."

The calling of his first name jolted him from the swirling tide of dark thought and he looked up toward Nick whom had left his post behind the director's table to look at him with hidden worry. He must have been so out of it if Nick had decided to use not only his first name but also his nickname.

Taking in a deep breath, Phil held it in for a moment before exhaling it along with the coiling tension he had not realized he was building up. He gave Nick a blithe smile, crooked around the edges as he sagged into himself.

"Well it looks like I will be cashing in those pending sick leave, Nick."

Any other time, he would have found it funny to see that usually unflappable face morphing into a constipated expression, laugh at it even but right now, he felt too drained to feel anything but grief.

"My family needs me."

Realization bleed into the man's face and Phil sent him another smile despite it being a thin one when the man did not ask further question. There are only a handful of people who knew Phil even have a family, most just assumed he is also an orphan with no family like many other members of S.H.I. . Though Phil only trusted Nick, Clint and Natasha with the knowledge of their name along with where they lived. Only those three had met Phil's family before the creation of Avengers.

"Who?"

Natasha's voice cut through the tense silence life sharp knife through warm butter and Phil could not help but send her an equally blithe smile. Most think the Black Widow is incapable of emotions but Phil knew better. He could see the cracks forming on that perfectly neutral face, see the way her eyes look more intense than usual in a show of worry.

Phil knew of the soft spot that Natasha have for his nephew and he knew that she is worried for the boy. He could practically see the gears turning in her head, making her own conclusion on just whose funeral he is invited too and the tenseness of her body signified her hope of it not being his nephew.

And he could see the mirror image of her body in Clint, who looked grimmer than he had been when he was released from Loki's control. Both of them really adored Stiles, as much as they adored Claudia, Phil's younger sister. They loved the boy like their own and Phil could not blame them for looking so grim when they are thinking it is Stiles who died.

"John."z

Phil breathed out the name with a shuddering lilt and could practically see the tension ebbing away from their body, taut muscles easing away to make room for relief that flooded them. For them, yes, it is bad for it to John who died but they would rather it be anyone else other than Stiles. It is not like they hate John, it is more to how they are completely wrapped around Stiles' fingers, completely enamored by the enigmatic boy who have such a pragmatic view toward the world and a heart big enough to love the two assassins that had so much red in their ledgers.

They would rather it be anyone other than Stiles, even if that anyone is Stiles' own father.

"I don't know you had a sister Phil, a hot one too and, oh a very snarky nephew. Heh, I knew that sarcasm is genetic. There's just no way someone can be that sarcastic without it being a blood thing."

Tony suddenly spoke from where he is perched on the meeting table, face illuminated in a blue hue by the projection of the 3D hologram that was showing files upon files of information that S.H.I.E.L.D have on Phil, which was supposed to be a very top secret to begin with but knowing him, Phil is not surprised he is already hacking his way into it.

He is just too drained to be offended at the intrusion to his privacy and merely shot the man an exasperated look as the brunette skimmed his way through the files with rapid interest. His exasperation merely increased when a sheepish but determined Steve along with a nervous Bruce joined him in looking through it. Phil just waved Thor off the Aesir looked at him in inquiry of his permission to also look into his personal information. If the Avengers are going to learn about him no matter what he said or do, then it is better have all of them digest it now.

Instead of joining them, Clint and Natasha sidled to his side along with Nick, each of them wearing a neutral expression on their faces but Phil knew them well enough to see the emotions in their eyes.

"He can stay at one of the safe house you know. The one between mine and Nat. He will be safe there and knowing Tony, he already had it bugged and armed to the teeth."

Nick grunted in agreement with Clint's suggestion and Phil met his eyes in a silent conversation that are born from decades of pushing each other to survive the grueling career they called their duty. Minutes passed and Phil finally relented, which is shown when his lips twitched up in a shadow of a genuine smile.

Sighing softly, he ignored the amused look that the two assassins sent his way and nodded his head in acquiescence of the deal Nick had forwarded to him.

"Fine but I'm not letting him be involved. The boy already had enough as it is."

Which is understandable because being linked to a spy is never easy and it would be hazardous if people managed to link Stiles to be in connection with the Avengers. Many of their enemies would definitely target him just for having that kind of link. Phil does not want his nephews to be put in danger just because the Avengers cannot keep their nose to themselves.

"I call dibs on shotgun."

Clint declared, his playful smarmy smile trying to clear the thick air of tension and Phil is grateful for it in moments like this. He did not realize just how much he need it until Clint had said it.

Now though, he has a town to go to and a nephew to comfort. It had been a while since he had last physically seen his nephew due to the formation of the Avengers and Phil planned to make up to it as soon as he sees him again.

Phil does not intend to lose any more of his precious people and definitely not his one and only blood family left.

 **So yeah, as usual, leave a review on the way out!**


	3. Chapter 3

**This will be a daily update until it reach the current timeline that I had written so far. So yeah, sorry again for forgetting to update for so long.**

His uncle does not leave his side throughout the whole process of the funeral and Stiles is very grateful of his silent presence by his side. His uncle was there to support him when he stood on the podium to give the eulogy for his father, retelling the tale of his life with him and managing not to break when he spoke of how proud he is of his father, of them. Though he did fall into his uncle's embrace when his voice grew too thick with grief and started to crack mid-speech.

Stiles felt more than just drained when the familiar tune of his parents' favorite music was played through the speaker, lulling him into the field of precious of childhood memories. He could see it when he closed his eyes, see the memory of him and his parents dancing to the music during their lazy Sunday, hear his mother singing the lyric of the song while she cooked as his father joined in with his off tune singing while helping her and Stiles was banging the utensils against the counter to match the rhythm of the music.

The memories brought a fresh flow of tears to his eyes and his uncle did not say anything when he leaned close to the older man's side. The man just slung an around over his shoulders and pulled him closer in a show of silent support as both of them grieved for the one they lost. He held him through the slide presentation of his father's life and achievements. Stiles also did not say anything when video of parents' wedding comes up, he just clings to the man more desperately and his action was recuperated by his uncle with equal desperation.

They only have each other now Stiles is not ashamed to admit that he clung to his uncle like a lost child, which he still is in the eyes of many adults present today. He is just a child who had just lost both of his parents and had been there to witness his world falling apart around himself.

His uncle is there by his side when his father's last radio call was aired, hand holding him tight by the elbow in order to ground him to reality. Hearing his father's voice was like a punch to the gut because it makes all of this felt so surreal. Stiles remembered the many times he had been eavesdropping on the police department's radio call through the walkie-talkie that he had whisked from one of the deputies. He could still hear the steady tempo of his father's voice ringing in his ears and that is something that he would never be able to hear anymore when he snooped into the line.

Stiles did not remember much of the rush of events that followed it but he remembered the constant presence of his uncle by his side, warm and comforting in a way that reminded him of safety, something that he had not felt ever since Scott got bitten.

He sat silently in the car provided for the family members throughout whole the formal procession to the cemetery, eyes locked on the Sheriff cruiser that are leading the procession. The car held many memories of his father and it had been with him for so long that Stiles think it is a part of him. But he knew it would soon belong to the new Sheriff that would be elected not too long after this. The sensation on callous hand gripping his pulled his attention away from the cruiser and he turned to look at his uncle with glassy eyes.

All of this is just too much.

He could not bear to see the glaring reminder that his dad had passed away and all of this is done in order to honor his passing. This reminder just stabbed him deeper than the knowledge that he is now an orphan and it twisted in his chest painfully every time he saw things that reminded him of the man his father used to be.

But his uncle being here made it easier for him. It is just basically the same thing as when his mom had died. Stiles had clung to his father for the very much needed support and this time is no different when he clung for his uncle in hope of not to drown in grief. And his uncle seemed to have the same sentiment because the man only enveloped him a tight hug so that he would not drift away.

"Thank you."

Stiles managed to whisper it into the crisp suit that his uncle wore as he buried his face into the crook of the man's neck like he had done so many time before whilst growing up. Even if he had grown way taller than he had been when he was a child, being in the embrace of his loved one always managed to make him feel small and protected, as if the arms of his father and uncle could shield him from the cruelty of the world.

"You still have me, Stiles. I'm here."

His uncle whispered over his head and he could feel the warm press of his uncle's lips against his forehead as the calloused hand carded through his hair soothingly. Stiles closed his eyes to enjoy it because he needed it, crave for it. He needed the familiar touches to wash away the memory that his uncle's words had brought up.

His dad had said the same thing during his mother's funeral and now his uncle is saying it to him once again. It felt like a curse, a hot brand that reminded him that he is destined to lose the people that he loved. Stiles twisted his fingers into the fabric of the back of his uncle's suit and held onto him tightly.

"Don't leave me. Please."

He whispered with fervent desperation that left him breathless and his hands trembled from the sheer force of his fingers clutching tightly onto the fabric of the suit. His uncle shushed him and another kiss was pressed onto his forehead as the hand in his hair trailed down to rub soothing circles on his neck.

"I would never leave you Stiles. I promise."

The ride to cemetery was silent after that and Stiles did not pull away from the embrace until the car rolled to a halt. He just stayed snuggled in the warm arms as his uncle continued to sooth away the tension in his body by rubbing circles on the back of his neck. Stiles did not need him to whisper sweet nothing in his ear, he just need him to be close as he pressed his ear to his uncle's chest to hear his heartbeat.

Sometimes he wished he is a werewolf too so that he could hear the sound of the heartbeats of the people that he loves. Hearing their heartbeat was like a lullaby for him and more so after his mother's death. Stiles had spent many nights after her death curled over his father's chest so that he could hear his steady heartbeat, just so that he could erase the horrible sound of flat line his mother's heart monitor had made when she drew her last breath.

They exited the car and the shutters and flashes of many cameras went off as reporters crowded their way to them, no doubt trying to get as many details as possible for their news coverage since it is not every day a Full Honor funeral was held and not most Sheriff would only leave behind a seventeen years old son as the sole survivor of the family. It is just the perfect storyline for their coverage and Stiles is sure he would be all over the front page of the local news.

His uncle shielded him from most of the crowd as they forced their way through them and Stiles is definitely glad for the honor guards who rushed over to pave a path for them. He kept a tight grip on his uncle's hand as he tried to shut out the questions thrown his way by the reporters, especially when they inquired on how his father died.

The knowledge was not made public since it involves supernatural and only Stiles and his friends knew the truth behind it. The officials only knew that his father died from an ambush while on duty. They did not know that he was poisoned by a supernatural creature that are out to get his son.

Stiles kept his head down until they were escorted within the cemetery, where only the close family and the honor guards were allowed in for the burial. His uncle sat him down on the seat offered by one of the guard and Stiles watched as the man knelt in front of him with his hands cradled in between the age worn hands.

"You're going to make out of this fine Stiles. That wouldn't happen again, that I can guarantee."

Meeting his uncle's eyes, Stiles gave him a small nod of acquiescence and received an assuring squeeze to his hands. His uncle stayed like that as they waited for the rest of the procession to arrive and it did not take long for Stiles to be lost once again amidst the rushing events that followed after it.

The only reason why his hands was steady when receiving the folded flag that was used to be draped over his father's coffin was because of his uncle's presence behind him, the strong hand a steady company on the small of his back that managed to keep away the edge of a panic attack that he could feel rising from deep inside him.

He just gave Deputy Jordon Parrish, whom he had chosen to be the Pallbearer, a weak smile when the man squeezed his hands while handing over the folded flag. The sorrowful look in the Hellhound's eyes just reminded him that all of this is real because over the years, they had gotten close and Jordon had become like a brother to him, just as much as his father become like a father to the man.

They are two sons who had just lost the father that they loved and that is the reason why Stiles had chosen him to be the Pallbearer because he knew the man needed it, to give the man who had taken him in the honor he deserved.

Stiles cradled the folded flag close to his chest when the doves were released he definitely sobbed into it when the coffin is finally lowered into the ground. He cried until he cannot breathe anymore and sunk to the ground when his knees grew too weak to support his weight.

He did not remember what happened after that, only the blurry images of black suits and dresses as he was hugged by his friends. Each of them took turn to wrap their arms around him and Stiles was surprised that Lydia's mother actually hugged him too.

Stiles knew that his father was seeing her these past few months and he is definitely happy for his dad to finally get over the grief of losing his mom. This woman would have been his step mother if his father had managed to gather the courage to ask for her hand in a vow of matrimony and Lydia would have definitely become his sister, just like how he wanted it after they had decided they are better off having a bond of friendship instead of romance.

After taking turn to hug him, they proceed to put him in the center of a group hug with Lydia clutching to him with fierce desperation at the front and Scott holding him like he is the most fragile thing in the world from behind. Malia, Kira and Liam huddled in close to his sides, no doubt trying to coddle him from the pain he is currently emitting.

Stiles gripped on Scott's arms that wrapped around his chest and felt tears prickling his eyes once again. He wanted to rage at Scott, to blame him for everything since this would have not happened if Scott had simply believed him about Theo but he is just too tired of crying, of shifting the blames from one person to another.

He is just too tired of feeling empty, of losing.

He is tired of everything.

So he does what he does best, he held it in and allowed himself to silently cry over the loss of his father in the arms of his oldest friend while being surrounded by people who he loved.

 **As usual, leave a review on the way out**


	4. Chapter 4

**I hate exam, enough said. So yeah, here is the new chapter.**

The flight to California usually took at least five hours through the commercial airlines and that does not include the time allotted for checking in and the travel to the airport but thanks to Tony's adamant demand that he took one of his private jet, the journey was literally cut in half.

Pepper had called him when he was onboard of it, her face sagging into an expression of sympathy and sorrow on the HUD projection displayed on the screen. She had obviously been informed of his lost and wanted to offer her condolence but Phil is just too out of it to keep up his usual mask of nonchalance. His face crumpled into an expression of utter lost under her compassionate eyes and he just sagged further into the leather seat that no doubt cost more than his monthly wage.

Her words were soft and murmured when she spoke her comfort to him, gentle in a way that none of his subordinates and friends will be able to be. She is aware of his nephew's existence, having heard it from Phil's own lips when he was too drunk to keep his tongue during the anniversary of Claudia's death. Though she too had sworn to keep it a secret for the sake of his nephew's safety.

Phil is grateful of her support, of the comfort she provided throughout the whole flight. She understood just how bad Phil is at dealing with the loss of people he cares for and John had become a part of his family in more than just one way. He is not just the husband of his younger sister, he is the brother that Phil never had, the one who understood him most when Claudia died. John is family in not only on paper, he is family when it mattered the most and Phil felt the lost keenly.

No tears were shed but his eyes were misty with the unshed tears that his crumpling mask could not hide. Losing John hurt as much as losing Claudia and Phil does not think he would ever be able to survive it if he also loses his nephew too. Stiles is the only family he has left and he would be damned if he allowed anything to hurt the young boy, definitely not under his watch.

Pepper ended the video call with a warm goodbye and told him to be strong, if not for himself, for his nephew. Phil knew what she is trying to do and he is just too malleable with grief to even resist it because he knew he needed this. He needed the distraction so that he would not loose himself in the sea of anguish and what better distraction out there other than his nephew who had lost everything. It is perhaps unfair for Stiles but everyone has their own coping mechanisms and Phil's way of coping with lose is to care for those he loves.

They J.A.R.V.I.S piloted plane landed on the private airstrip that Phil never knew the man owned and definitely not when it is near a small town such as Beacon Hill. He had a suspicion that the man had just recently bought it upon knowing of the location of Phil's family. He would not even put it above the man to do such a thing because if there is anything he knew about Tony Stark, the man truly went out of his ways to make the life of those he cares better and easier. That is the man that Pepper is in love with and Phil can understand why.

Despite the obstinate and conceited image that the man had put up, Phil knew just how generous the man can be from the many anonymous donations the man had done to many charity organizations all over the world. Yes, he still upholds the billionaire, playboy and philanthropist image, well not much of a playboy now that he is in a committed relationship with Pepper but by now, he knew that the image is Tony's way of shielding himself from the world. It is how Tony would rather the world view him as instead of the alcoholic man with many emotional baggage weighing him down.

Both of them are actually similar to each other in so many ways, so much that it is actually a lot easier to relate to the man.

The door of the jet opened and Clint took the lead of their small group of three people with Natasha taking the rear, obviously wanting to keep Phil right in the middle between the two of them. Any other time he would have said something about it, make them their positioning but he understood their need to keep him safe. Like him, they copped with lost by tightening the defense of those they care, especially with what they do as work.

He allowed for them to be vigilant and choose to close his eyes when they interrogated the man that Tony had obviously hired to drive them to the funeral. He is just too tired to keep up the persona of the perfect spy, to be in control of himself after receiving the crippling blow of losing yet another one of his family. So he allowed for them to take over instead of the other way around like he is supposed to as their handler.

Both of them kept their silence as they journeyed to the small town of Beacon Hills but Natasha had placed a steadying had on his arm in silent support throughout the whole ride. He did not miss the increasingly constant glance Clint sent his way from the front seat. Phil is grateful of their grounding presence by his sides and wondered just how lucky he is to have these two in his life. Yes, he had fought tooth and nails to obtain their hard earned trust but to still have them be by his side during his most vulnerable state is a situation he never sees himself to be in when he agreed to join S.H.I.E.L.D.

Along the way to the city hall, where the honoring process will be held, Phil could see the black buntings that was strung up on lampposts along with flags only being flown halfway up the pole. He knew what all of it meant, is intimately aware of their meanings but it does not make the weight of grief in his chest any lighter. The citizens of Beacon Hills obviously wanted to honor their Sheriff's passing but only felt pain at seeing all of this vestige that reminded him of what he lost.

He could only image what his nephew must have felt to see all of these, his childhood hometown being littered with the glaring reminder of what he lost. People are just so cruel this way, to rub reminder in the face of a grieving boy who had lost so much at such an early age. They meant well but their goodwill only serves to tear open the scabbing wound.

The nondescript black sedan rolled into a halt in front of the entrance and Natasha slid out first with Phil close behind her. They moved up the grand staircase and Clint slipped into the empty spot by Phil's left, eyes roving over from one face to another in rapid movement to scan out any suspicious individual.

They were halted by one of the honor details that had been assigned to greet the guests and Phil showed the man his own invitation. Phil was patient as the man checked over the system for confirmation but his eyes kept on looking inside the hall for any hint of his nephew. They were given the green light to enter and Phil gave the deputy a tight smile when the man offered his condolence, obviously having seen the relationship Phil have with the deceased Sheriff.

If he was anyone else, he would have jolted in surprise at the hand settling on the back of his neck. He would even pull out the gun hidden between the fold of his clothes but he instead relaxed under the firm hand that grounded him. Phil knew it is Clint because his own body only allowed certain people to approach him without resistance when he is so out of his depth like this.

"We are here boss. Everything will be fine."

The archer's voice lacked its usual spirited lilt but the fierce determination in his eyes is enough assurance for Phil to know everything would be fine. Natasha still did not say anything but the lingering touch she has on his wrist is more than enough for him to know she share the same sentiment with Clint. They might not be the right person to provide comfort but they are the perfect person when it comes to giving an unshakable assurance.

Halfway into the building, they were met by a woman with curly black hair and naturally tan skin. Her dark brown eyes are red from crying and the dimpled cheeks are still damp with tears. Phil immediately knew who she is because he had met her more than enough time whenever he came over to visit the Stilinski.

And it looks like she too knows just who he is based on the way she rushed her way toward him, the black dress she wore fluttering in the unseeing breeze. She was the one who sent him the invitation and also the one had written the letter that explained just what his nephew had went through. He owed this to her because he would have been days too late if she had not sent it to him.

She engulfed him in a hug as per their usual way of greeting and she held onto him for a moment longer before pulling back to look at him with glassy eyes, lips wobbling with suppressed words. Phil gave her tentative smile but genuine nonetheless as he gripped her by the elbows in silent support.

"I'm glad you could make it. I'm sorry for not trying to reach out to you earlier but things are hectic and I could not reach you through the phone."

Which is not surprising because the number was programmed to only receive call from John and Stiles' number. No one would be able to reach him through that number if they are not calling him using either John's or Stile's number. It is a safety precaution that Phil had set up when he first joined S.H.I.E.L.D so that people would not be able to track down the location of his family.

Though it has its downside because in situation like this, Phil would be informed late due to no one other than Stiles and John are able to contact him. Phil had denied Nick's offer of stationing an agent in this town to supervise them because the relative secrecy of their existence far outweigh the risk of them being linked to him. He has far too many enemies who would be gleeful to use his family in order to get to him.

"My apology, I had just recently switched my number and had not given it to either of them yet. But thank you so much for reaching out to me through my address. I owe you one."

That is not a complete lie because being an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D does not allow for Phil to have the luxury of having a permanent number for people to get ahold of him. He could not risk being tracked down after all and he had only acquired that phone number system because the head of the technology department had owed him big time.

Melissa, his mind supplied, gave him a wavering smile but nodded her head in understanding without asking anymore questions and Phil is glad for it.

"Anything for Stiles. Now go, he need you."

Phil gave her arms another assuring squeeze before going toward the direction she had pointed out. He is not surprised to see the two assassins had disappeared, obviously going around the place to set up a parameter and weed out unwanted individuals. It might be overkill to do such a thing but none of them wanted to take the risk of being caught unaware, not when Stiles' live is on the line.

It did not take long for Phil to find just where his nephew is thanks to one of the older deputies recognizing just who he is. The man let him pass through the protective line that some deputies had set up to keep away the crowd of well-wishing people from where his nephew is kneeling beside the open casket. He accepted the murmured condolence with a nod and reciprocated the weary smile on the deputy's face when the man squeezed his shoulder as he passed though.

Both of them are too old and tired for this.

But Phil pushed aside the emotional exhaustion in order to make his way to his nephew's side. It is easy for him to see the signs that hinted at the boy working himself up into a panic attack and Phil did not need any more initiative to settle his hand on the back of the tense neck. He could feel the muscle jumping in a full body jolt but he did not remove his hand from it. If anything, he only held onto it more firmly and worked his fingers into kneading the tense muscles until the boy sagged under his hand.

They both stayed like that in what felt like a very long moment with Stiles leaning against his leg and Phil was caught unprepared by his nephew using the fabric of his slack as an impromptu handkerchief, making his fingers tightening around the fragile neck instinctively. Though he immediately calmed down once his instinct driven mind registered that it is only his nephew and not a threat.

Deciding to move his hand away from the fragile neck, Phil moved the appendage up until his fingers sink into the soft tuft of brown hair. His nephew had inherited so much of Claudia that he is basically the carbon copy of his sister, only with different gender. Phil would bet all of his money that Stiles would look like the mirror image of his mother if they boy ever decided to grow out his hair to the same length as his mother's.

Though in between the similarities that the boy shared with his mother, there are still the shadow of John in the boy. The way Stiles crinkle his eyes whenever he entered his 'thinking' mode or the way his inquisitive nature always got him into trouble. Most would think that Stiles got his undying curiosity from Claudia but Phil knew better because John is not always the law abiding man he was before his death. Stiles got his look from his mother but his personality is a huge chunk of John with a mix of Claudia's mischievousness.

Phil opened his mouth to pay the last respect to the man he called brother and expected for his words to be stilted and choked out but the words flow out smoothly. He spoke of their first meeting, of when he gave Claudia's hand away to him, of when Stiles was born, of Claudia's death. For some reason it is easy for him to speak of all of these memories that ached so painfully in his chest. John had been the only person other than him to share all of these memories and now Phil is the only one left to keep all of it alive.

The weight of it felt so heavy on his shoulders but feeling his nephew leaning against him made it at least somewhat bearable. Phil is at least not alone in this and Stiles is still here with him, the only thing he have left to remind him of the two family members he had lost. Claudia and John still live within this boy and Phil would make sure his nephew will live a long and fulfilling life so that he would at least have a piece of them with him.

So it had been easy for him to make that offer, to finally have the boy that he had helped raised as his own son under his wing. They only have each other now and Phil would do everything in his power to ensure the safety and happiness of his family. He had killed people for his missions and he would not hesitate to kill so that he could keep his nephew safe and it looks like he is not alone this time around too because Phil is more than sure that the two assassins under him whom had staked their claim on the boy would be more than willing to aid him in his cause.

They are people who worked within the darkness in order to make the world a better place and everything is a fair game in love and war. Stiles is the one thing they have left to keep their morality compass stable and they would guard him with vehement abandon.

 **So yep, leave a review on the way out**


	5. Chapter 5

**New chapter. Yay! Well thank you to all of those who had left a review and also for the support! I hope you will like this new chapter too!**

Returning to the empty house of his childhood home caused a fresh wave of grief wash over him. He had not returned here ever since the hospital declared his dad is in a far too worse condition to be saved. Stiles had opted to spend all of his time cooped up in the private room, holding onto his dad's hand like a lifeline, which he is and had always been.

The twenty-four hours that followed that declaration had been the most painful moment of his life, to watch his father waning away on the hospital bed without being able to do anything. It was like watching his mother wasting away under the mercy of the dementia all over again except this time it was more agonizing for his father because the chimaera poison was eating away at him from the inside.

Stiles did not remember how much the time had passed or how long he had been staying in the room, all he knew are all of his senses attuned to the raspy breath of his father for fear of it going off tangent. He stayed by his bedside, cradling his father's hand with utmost tenderness but at the same time with fierce desperation.

He had never felt so useless in his whole life, to do nothing more than cry and hoping for a miracle to happen but Stiles had long since learned to not believe in miracle because miracle does not happen. He had once fervently wished for a miracle to happen when his mother began to forget about him but that naïve belief had been shattered to pieces when his mother finally succumbed to her illness. He had been there to witness her taking her last breath, all the while never stopping to curse his very existence.

Miracle does not exist because there is no cure for a chimera poison, unless he managed to kill the chimaera that is but the chimaera was nowhere to be found no matter how high or how low he searched. It was as if the chimera never existed at all and it drive Stiles crazy in his desperate search to save his father's life.

So instead of wasting his time in a fruitless wild goose chase, Stiles had reluctantly settled into the hard plastic chair by his father's bedside to spend the little time he has left with his father. A part of him died and withered away each time his dad had difficulty to breath and he was left with feeling more lost than ever as the precious time trickle away like fine grain of sands in between the cracks of his desperately grasping fingers.

He was jerked away from the dwindling dark memory by the pressure of firm hand squeezing the back of his neck. It pulled him away from the clutch of darkness and dragged him back to reality, where he stood unmoving in front of the open doorway of his home.

Home.

That word brought a bitter tang to his mouth and he awfully felt the sudden urge to wash away the acrid taste of bile rising up his painfully constricting throat. It used to make his chest flutter with a fluffy feeling, spreading the warmth all over his body as his heart skipped a beat in happiness. And it suddenly felt as if it had been ages since he had last felt that warm feeling.

The house held so many memories of his parents, of his life growing up, of laughter and tears, of happiness and sadness. It is where he had spent a huge chunk of his life in and it is where he felt safest the most. It is his safe haven, where he could just curl up on the beat up couch in front of the TV like an oversized burrito whilst stuffing his face with his favorite snack and forget about the world around him. It is where his mother used to wait for him with open arms and loving smile. It is where his father would come home to and kiss him goodnight each time he returned from a late night shift.

But now the house felt too big, too empty and Stiles felt so out of breath to be standing in it. He felt trapped inside the building, as if the walls are closing in on him and threatened to bury him under its rubbles. Too many memories flooded his mind and it grew harder to breath each time another memory came to the forefront of his mind.

He suddenly felt claustrophobic despite how large the room is.

His vision grew spotty and Stiles tried to blink away the blackness that are invading his vision. He felt something big lodged in his airway and it is preventing him from breathing properly. Hands shooting up to his chest, Stiles clawed at the fabric covering his torso, trying to tear out whatever that is stopping him from inhaling the precious air into his desperate lungs.

Though before his nails could scratch over the pale skin under the fabric, his hands were seized by a strong pair of hands that held onto the flailing appendages with surprising tenderness despite how firmly it clasped around his wrists. A body leaned close against his back and Stiles is distinctly aware of the soft mounds pressed into his back along with them lithe arms that wrapped around his chest.

Muffled voices reached his ears and Stiles immediately latched onto it for fear of drifting away into the abyss that threatened to swallow him whole. He focused on the voice, honing his senses to be solely fixated on that voice so that he could ward off the temptation of letting his consciousness go. He does not want to fall unconscious now, not when nightmare lurked within his mind like a predatory beast, waiting for him to let his guard down enough for it to sink its wickedly sharp claws into his lucid mind.

His fuzzy mind managed to discern a couple of words through the hazy buzzing of white noises that clouded his sense of hearing and one of it is 'Breathe.'

Stiles struggled to do as what the voice told him to do and he forced himself to breath, to inhale the sweet oxygen into his burning lungs through any way he can, be it through his mouth or nose. The sound of rushing blood in his ears gradually lessened as his chest rise and fall stutteringly with each desperate inhale and exhale of air into his sweltering lungs.

It took him a long moment for him to finally come back to himself and by then he had just realized that he had been moved to the bed in the guest bedroom on the ground floor and he is lying on his side. The arms around his chest is still present and one of the small hands attached to the limbs pressed over his heart like a comforting weight and the soft mound of flesh still pressed against his back make him conclude that the owner of the arms is a woman.

His fingers twitched and it made him aware of the pinprick sensation that are spreading all over his hands that are still in the confine of a pair of very much coarser hands. Blinking slowly, Stiles flitted his eyes to follow the arms that it is connected to and up the broad shoulders along with thick neck and a face deepened slightly by visible lines of age.

Something clicked in his head and the scattered pieces of shattered thoughts began to slid into place like well-oiled machines, gears grinding against each other with practiced ease.

He should have known his uncle would not come here alone and he should have expected to see this blonde man in front him once again if his uncle ever come for him. It did not take much to guess just who the woman behind him is because Stiles only know one woman who would come with his uncle whenever he came to Beacon Hills.

"Clint. Natasha."

Stiles breathed out their names like an ardent prayer, barely believing his own eyes that these two are here with him. It had been years since he had last seen them physically, longer than his uncle even. He had thought these two had lost interest in coming over to Beacon Hills to see the spastic boy their friend called nephew, so Stiles had given up on hoping to see them ever again. He did not expect to see them once again and definitely not in this kind of situation.

As if reading his thought, the blonde in front of him cracked a small smile that melted away the impenetrable mask of neutrality that he had previously worn. And seeing the genuine warmth in those blue eyes made his chest tighten ever so slightly, a pleasant burning that wrought comfort instead of pain.

It reminded him of childhood years, where this man used to carry him on his shoulders as they walked back from the park and Stiles remembered chattering away with vibrant enthusiasm as he hugged the spiky but surprisingly soft blonde hair. He remembered the warmth of strong fingers wrapped around his ankles that secured him in place so that he would not topple off from his own excitement .

This is the man he had grown up viewing as someone akin to a brother figure, if not a second uncle and Stiles had not seen him for years. In fact, the last time he had seen the man was two years before the event of Chitauri invasion on New York city and that was four years ago.

And the man looked as if he had aged at least two more decades despite it being barely half a decade since they had last been face to face. The lines that was barely there before are now gauging deep burrow in his face and the eyes that used to be bright with playful mirth had darkened considerably by something that Stiles felt a lingering connection to. It something that always stared back at him whenever he looked into the mirror after the event of the Nogitsune.

"Hey there kiddo."

Clint had whispered it in the same soft tone that used to tell him many bedtime stories of a spy's adventure whenever the man had come over with his uncle and Stiles could not help but smile slightly at him. He had missed him, especially during the nights where his nightmare kept him awake and his dad was not home to stay by his side until sleep finally claimed him once again. He missed having someone other than his father to keep him company inside the house that suddenly felt too large after his mother's death.

The man's hands that had previously wrapped around his wrists are now tangled with his, their fingers interlacing together in a jumbled mess that left no space in between it. Stiles remembered that Clint always do this whenever he tried to calm Stiles down, holding his fingers hostage so that Stiles would not hurt himself whilst grounding him with the firm pressure of his hands.

"I got you."

The fingers tangled around his tightened briefly and Stiles saw something flashing in those blue eyes that looked eerily similar to the glowing of a certain beta's eyes. But instead of feeling threatened under the intense gaze, he felt safe and protected.

As if not wanting to be left out, Natasha too tightened the embrace of her arms around his torso, the palm of her hand pressed flat over his gradually calming heart. His ears picked up the soft murmur of Russian words in his ears but his brain is too fatigued to translate it. Though he does remember the familiar tune of the Russian lullaby that this woman had often used to lull him to sleep during his childhood days.

Her warm breath against the nape of his neck brought comfort instead of tension despite how close she is to the scar that Donovan had left on his shoulder. Most guy would have been mortified at the thought of being spooned by a woman but Stiles find comfort in being held by the arms of people he loves an if he has to be spooned by a woman to achieve it, then he would not mind it at all.

He is a tactile person after all and had always been even before he was involved in the whole werewolves' business.

The bed shifted slightly under them and Stiles find Clint lying close at his front. The man had released one of his hands in favor of draping an arm over Stiles' waist and somehow that hand managed to worm its way under Stiles' shirt to press against the ribs that he is sure the man could feel under his skin. The touch felt intimate, as much as the hand that Natasha have pressed flat against his heart but Stiles knew it is only done with the intention of grounding him.

"I will keep you safe."

Natasha had whispered in his ear and Stiles shivered slightly at the pleasant warmth that spread all over his body when she nuzzled the back of his throat in a manner akin to a werewolf scent marking a member of their pack. He was so used to his supernatural friends doing it to him that his body only relaxed under the action that are meant to offer comfort by tactile creatures such as the werewolf.

Clint mumbled something over his head but his mind was too hazy to discern the word murmured by the blonde. Stiles just mumbled something incoherent into the chest he was snuggled into and reveled under the comforting weight of the head he was tucked under. Being held by these two make him feel as if he is still the boy in his childhood years, cradled to sleep within the protective cocoon of limbs that helped to keep the nightmare away.

He definitely did not complain about the legs that tangled with his under the duvet that covered the three of them, not even when he does not know just who it belonged to. Perhaps it was Clint's or it was Natasha's but Stiles does not care it belonged to who, he only care about the comfort it provided.

A soft snort pulled Stiles' attention away from the two people curled around him and Stiles craned his neck slightly to look at his uncle who sat at the edge of the bed with his back against the headboard of the queen sized bed. The expression on his uncle's face is something that he rarely ever sees after the death of his mother but the look of intense love in his eyes managed to make Stiles feel happy instead of sad at being reminded of what he had lost.

His uncle runs his hand through his hair and Stiles felt his eyes slid close as the fingers carded through the strands of his hair. After everything that had happened today, Stiles felt he is entitled to the cuddling he is subjected to and every pieces of comfort that the people he loves is offering him.

"Sleep. I will watch over you."

And it is easy for him to let go of the grasp he has over his consciousness after that, to succumb into the embrace of sleep while being surrounded by the warmth from the people he loves. The lingering warmth of a pair of lips on his forehead make him think that perhaps he is not alone after all.

 **Gut wrenching feels and hope you guys will survive it to give me a review!**

 **Ciao**

 **Y.L**


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you for all your support!**

Death.

It is not a new word for him and definitely not for someone who do the same kind of thing he called work. He took away lives just because their names are in his hit list and had been doing it for so long that the concept of death only bring a numb sensation that he was well acquaintance to.

He was a killer through and through, doing it either for money or because he was ordered to by his superiors. Remorse is not a feeling that he often felt, having forced himself to squash that feeling before it could take root so that his aim never faltered and his arrow never missed the target.

His hands are a permanent shade of red from the many red he had accumulated in his ledger and he had never thought much about it because that was who he was back then, a mercenary of death to those who hired him.

But then Phil had entered his life like a ball of righteous fury, grey eyes blazing like liquid steel as the man stared him down. He had thought that was it, that it would be the end of him when the seemingly nondescript man aimed the barrel of his gun at his forehead in a pointblank range that left him no room to escape. He had thought his meaningless life would finally come to an end but for some reason, Phil had not pulled that trigger. The man had seen something in him that is redeeming, that he is worth the complete smack down that he received from Nick Fury for not killing the target he was sent to kill.

It had been maddening for him at that time, to be given a second chance to change his way under none other than the one who would have been his killer had Phil not decided that he deserve a shot at redemption. Working with Phil had opened his eyes to a lot of things and the man himself had taught him that there are a lot more to life than he had originally thought.

Though despite all that, what really solidified his loyalty to the seemingly harmless man was when the man had introduced him to his sister, officially welcoming him into his family by entrusting the existence of his sister to him, a man who used to kill for money. It blew him off his proportion, setting him off his kilter because never in his life had he been shown this amount of trust by anyone.

And it looked like the compassion was a family trait because he was shown the same amount of unwavering compassion by the woman who shared the same intense look in Phil's eyes. She had greeted him with a bright smile when she opened the door to her house and an even gentler squeeze to his hand when she introduced herself.

Phil had explained that it was a great show of control on his sister's part because Phil had always said Claudia was a very tactile person. She understood that he was still not used to the casual touches that are not meant to harm him and had shown significant restraints by being mild with her physical interaction. She did not question him for his reason, only smiling at him in assurance with understanding shining in her liquid amber eyes.

When Phil had suddenly said they are going to a safe house, he did not expect to be welcomed into the house the man had grown up in and he definitely did not expect to be introduced to the man's family. It baffled him to be welcomed in the house that is very much a home to the two siblings and their unending flow of compassion to him caused him to be light headed at the sudden rush of it. Though they do tone it down when they saw how much it is overwhelming him.

The one month he spent with the two had been a very surreal experience to him and he had poked himself with one of his arrows many times just to make sure he is not dreaming it. They taught him what it meant to have a family and what it meant to be one. They are gentle and understanding in their attempts to make him feel at ease, to make himself feel at home in the wooden two-story house they called home.

Sitting down at the kitchen table in nothing more than a tank top and a sweat during the first morning of the Christmas with a mug of hot chocolate in hands and a plate of homemade chocolate chip cookies was not a situation he had ever envisioned himself to be in but here he was with the two Zieliński siblings. They had sat in an air of comfortable silence between them, only occasionally broken by the sound of silent sipping and munching of warm cookies Claudia had baked earlier that morning.

Though with things are rarely ever peaceful when Claudia is involved and she broke the comfortable silence by dropping the bomb of her newest relationship update with a certain newbie cop. Clint could still remember the expression Phil had made when he choked on the cookie he had been stuffing his face with and he could definitely remember the nearly mad cackling Claudia had let out at her brother's expanse.

It had been utter chaos after that, with Clint trying but failing to hold in his own laughter whilst attempting to save his handler from certain death of choking on cookie and Phil trying to wrangle every drop of information about the man who dared to court his precious little sister from said sister who are laughing herself to an early grave.

The memory was one of his precious memories after Phil had pulled him out from the mindless haze of killing he had thrown himself into and he held it close to his chest each time he felt the world is too much for him to handle whenever it smacked him down during his desperate attempt to pave a way for to redemption for himself. He could still remember it each time he closed his eyes, feel the warmth that swelled in his chest and hear the sound of joyous laughter he shared with them.

It is what made him stop from letting go of the arrow that he had aimed for the head of a certain redhaired assassin that he had been deployed to eliminate and it is also the reason why he had held out his hand to her like how Phil had done to him all those years ago when he saw something in those green eyes of hers. It is the same thing that had stared back at him whenever he looked into the mirror, the desperation of wanting to change and the acceptance of being put down before they could do any more harm.

So, it did not take him much prompting to bring it to Phil's attention and the man had taken one look at his steely gaze along with an in depth one at her to agree on forwarding it to Fury. Months of probation and she was finally released to be under Phil. They worked together with surprising ease and it is not hard for him to see her undergoing the same thing that he had all those years ago when Phil finally brought her back to Casa de Zieliński to introduce her to his sister, whom had sprout a golden band around her ring finger much to Phil's chagrin.

Life goes on for them and it did not take long for Natasha to also be wrapped around the younger Zieliński, now Stilinski's, finger like how Clint himself is. Though a couple of months after their last visit to her, they were surprised by the news of her pregnancy. Clint would forever remember how Phil nearly fainting from shock at the news and the crippling look of longing that flashed across Natasha's face.

It was a bittersweet moment in their life, seeing Claudia basically glowing with pride and joy at the small life growing in her and Clint could not help but feel a little dazed over it. He was so used to ending a live with just a single pull of the trigger or with the slightest relaxing of his fingers as he released the arrow that it was hard for him to believe that it took nine months of conceiving to bring a live to the world.

It left him breathless to imagine the struggle that humans went through in order to birth a baby and despite being well aware of the whole process, it had been a completely different experience for him to personally witness it happening. Clint had been there to see Claudia becoming more and more round with the small life growing in her and the delight that she exudes throughout the whole pregnancy caused something to stir inside of him.

He was not used to the stirring of these emotions, to feel his chest going taut from the warmth that flooded his stomach when he felt the gentle kick of small feet against the palm of the hand that he had pressed against the bump of Claudia's stomach.

It was amazing and heartbreaking at the same time, to feel the life growing inside her and thinking about the countless lives he had ended just because he was assigned to. It had him rethinking of his life choices up until that point and the feeling of remorse that he had vehemently quashed all those times began to well up inside of him like a vengeful monster.

If he had wept into Claudia's lap at that time, well it was their secret because that was what he had been working for, the redemption he had been fighting tooth and nails to achieve. Claudia did not say anything to him, not even the sweet assurance that people often used to comfort someone. She just let him use her laps to cry over whilst carding her nimble fingers through his hair, humming a Polish lullaby that Clint often caught Phil humming under his breath.

Clint had wrapped his arms around her growing stomach at that time, holding close the small life that grows inside of her as he fervently prayed for the God that he had never believed in before to grant the child a happy and peaceful life. He prayed that the baby would grow up without knowing of the cruelty of life, that it would never know of the darkness that Clint himself had witnessed and thrown himself into.

And that moment had become one of the biggest turning point of his life, rivalling close with the birth of his own children into the world. When Claudia had finally brought the baby into the world, it made him wanting to change the world to be a better place, a place that is safe for the innocent baby that he had cradled in his arms. So, when he had been sent to yet another mission, he thought of the bright liquid amber eyes that stared back at him with utter adoration and trust, of the hypnotizing baby laughter that he had managed to lure out whenever he played with him.

He thought of the small boy whom had inherited the best of his parents' characteristics and the boy who had given him the hope of a better future when he released the arrows.

Stiles may not be his by blood but Clint had claimed the boy as his own when Claudia had first let him feel the small feet kicking against his palm. Stiles was the one who gave him the final push in asking for Laura's hand in a marriage that he never believe he deserve and Stiles was the reason why he wanted a child of his own, that allowed him to get over the fear of tainting his offspring with the red in his ledgers.

Stiles is his in all the ways that mattered despite the boy not having any blood relation to him because someone had once told him that family does not end with blood.

So, when Phil had received that letter, Clint felt his whole world stop as dread rushed into every pore of his body. The air was stuck in his throat as he waited for the inevitable news but when Phil had said John's name, the tension had fled his body faster than he thought possible that it left him feeling lightheaded with relief.

Don't get him wrong, Clint likes John. The man was the most greatest husband anyone could ever ask for and an even greater father to a boy like Stiles but Stiles is his, his son despite the boy not having half of his genes. So if it meant John have to die in order for Stiles to live, then it is an exchange that Clint would gladly do without a second thought.

Stiles was the greatest thing that ever happened to him after Phil had forced him to change side and he would be damned if he lost the last piece of Claudia, whom had been the one to teach him what it meant to be a family. Phil may be her brother but it is Stiles who have so much of her in him and Clint would never let anything take that away from him.

And now here he is once again, holding onto the boy whom he had claimed as one of his own through yet another crippling blow of losing another one of his parent. It was not as bad as losing Claudia since Stiles had been only a child at that time but that does not make the pain of losing a loved one any less painful.

Clint meet Natasha's eyes over the headful of brown hair that he had tucked under his chin and a silent conversation passed through their eyes. There is no need for words between them because there are so many things that they could have done in the seconds they had wasted verbally communicating. Besides, it is not as if he does not know just what had been going through her head to begin with. Their line of thoughts is no different after all, especially when it involves Stiles.

So it was not hard for him to see the struggle in her eyes as she have an internal battle with her instinct to whisk Stiles away from everything that could cause harm to the grieving boy. Clint shares her sentiment on that part because he too wanted nothing more than to just hide Stiles away with his wife and children but Phil had been against that idea.

The man had countered that it is too risky to have Stiles so far away when HYDRA could have already been making connection between the boy and the three of them. They could not risk any possibility of Stiles being targeted while he is so far out of their reach. Even though New York is not the safest place to live in, they could at least personally guard him with the added support of the rest of the Avengers and not to mention the S.H.I.E.L.D resources.

Yes, it would be a struggle to keep Stiles' identity hidden but they could still at least have him under their fulltime watch with the highest rate of protection details compared to their other choices. It sucks but this is the only choice they have in order to keep him as safe as possible.

And Clint would never allow anything nor anyone to harm even a single hair on this boy.

 **Leave a review on the way out!**

 **Y.L**


	7. Chapter 7

**Thank you for your comment and support!**

Waking up to the first ray of sunlight washing over his face is not a pleasant experience for him, not when his eyes are throbbing in the sockets of his skull like a timed bomb ready to explode. His face is stiff with dried tears and other questionable liquid that he does not want to think about until he was under the hot water of the shower or at least washed his face.

Whoever wrote those romance novels about waking up under the ray of sunlight as a pleasant thing, they are a lying liar who lies and deserve to have reality shoved where the sun does not shine.

Shifting away from the light with a displeased grumble, Stiles slowly opened his eyes when he is sure that his eyes did not threaten to explode anymore. He blinked a couple of time to make the crust at the corners of his eyes go away and also to focus his vision properly without the haze of sleep clouding it. He tried to move one of his hand up in order to scrub it over his eyes but soon find he is unable to move it.

In fact, he could not even move any of his limbs other than twitching restlessly.

Flicking his eyes down, he soon finds out why.

One of it was tangled by a hand that are distinctly coarser than his and the other one was held captive by a hand that definitely belonged to a woman based on the texture and the size of it. At first, he was confused on whom it belonged to because none of his friends smelled like these two people who are sandwiching him but when last night's memories came crashing back to him, he immediately knew who they are.

Clint and Natasha.

His uncle's friends and people who are like a second family to him.

Whom he had not seen for almost half a decade now.

But here they are, tangled around him in a position akin to the puppy piles that his supernatural friends had begun to subject him to on the days that followed his father's death. It was as if they were never gone from his life, as if they were always there with him through the hell he had been thrown into ever since he had dragged Scott into the woods that one particular night.

Them being here reminded him of the life he used to have before the metaphorical shit had hit the fan with insatiable vengeance, of the life where his most darkest fear was to be separated from Scott, of the life where his father used to be alive and smiling at him over the mug of black coffee he was chugging as if it was a life essence.

They are the physical proof that he used to have a normal life before all of these supernatural nightmares.

And that reminder hurts more than anything else.

Between being possessed by a vengeful fox spirit and fighting for his life on a nearly everyday basis, Stiles had begun to forget that he is still a squishy little human who was barely out of his teenage phase but it looks like life never missed a chance to remind him he is still a mere mortal despite all of the big bad that he had either helped to or taken down himself.

"You looked just like when you had exploded that gelatin."

The amused voice lured him away from his dwindling thoughts and Stiles craned his neck to look up at the man he was cuddled into. He was met by the smiling face of Clint and for some reason, seeing those blue eyes looking so bright actually make something inside of him lighten up.

Perhaps it was because of the significance this man has in his life.

"Am not."

Stiles retorted and could not hold back the wince at how croaky his voice sounded, small and cracked as his throat ached slightly. A glass of water seems like a heavenly thing right now.

"Right."

A small smile slithered up to his lips at the way the man dragged out the vocal with a undeniably mock skeptic expression on his face and it did not take long for his own smile to be mirrored by the blonde once again.

They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity and Stiles allowed for himself to be under the mercy of those searching eyes, letting Clint search for whatever it is that he is searching for. Anything that would allow for the man to be assured that he is fine enough to still function like a normal human being.

He could feel the man's hand tangled around him squeezing slightly and settled down when he felt a thumb brushing over his knuckles in a very familiar way. That was the only hint Stiles needed to know that Clint is satisfied with whatever he found, well for now that is but then again beggars cannot be chooser. He would rather not have someone mother hen all the time just because they think he could not properly take care of himself.

"Are you two going to kiss already? This suspense is killing me."

The amused huff of the feminine voice tickled his ear and Stiles turned around just enough between the two bodies he was trapped in to meet the green eyes of Natasha. She was half upright on her side with her left hand supporting her head and the ringlets of red hair cascade down her cheeks in a way that always tempted him to reach out and tug at one of it just to see it bouncing back into its original shape.

He had always loved her hair and just not because of its color, well partially because it reminded him of his all-time crush, Lydia Martin but anyway, he liked her hair because of the way it complemented her eyes and also because of the shape of it. He loves the way it just bounces back to its original shape no matter what he does to straighten it, much like her who never cease to stay firm and unyielding in front of any adversary that stood in her way. Nothing could change her unless she allowed for it do so and Stiles adored her for it.

His staring did not go unnoticed by her and he saw those full lips that are usually painted red forming a crooked smile that never failed to make her look more younger than her original age is, which is something that Stiles never managed to get out of her no matter how many begging, bribing and blackmailing he had done to achieve it.

"Good morning Little Red."

Stiles could not help but snorted at the irony of the nickname because who would have thought that nickname would come biting him in the ass now when he is after all a boy who run with the big bad wolves and have a penchant for wearing something red and an unhealthy obsession with baseball bat.

If only she knew just how ironic her nickname had become to him now.

He was pulled away from his zooning out by the sensation of warm lips pressed between his brows and the teasing tickle of red hair against his cheeks. The sensation stayed there for a moment and Stiles enjoyed every second of it before she pulled away to gaze at him with the same look Clint had looked at him with previously.

And like before, he allowed for her to search for whatever it is that these two are looking for. Though it only took her a shorter time compared to Clint.

The three of them stayed like that for an indefinite amount of time, curled around each other in a mess of jumbled limbs as they shared body heats to counteract the coldness of the morning. No words were exchanged between them and he would have thought that they had fallen back to sleep if it were not for the sensation of their hands on his body.

He could still feel Clint caressing his side, the spot just under his ribcage, in a circular motion that helped him relax under his touch and Natasha still have her hand over hand over his heart, tracing idle pattern over the pale skin as she hummed the same lullaby that had lulled him to sleep last night whilst curling her body around him in a semblance of a cocoon that was completed by the blonde man on Stiles' other side.

He was about to nod off back to sleep when the door was opened and in came none other than his uncle, who looked very cozy clad in nothing more than a grey plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbow and a pair of jeans. What truly set him off in a fit of uncontrollable laughter is the sight of the very frilly pink apron hugging the man's torso. It has the word 'Baking Booties Baby' printed at the front in bright hot pink and a splattering of rainbow behind it.

It had been a gag gift from Scott in celebration of him going to the final in the local baking competition and Stiles had proudly worn it during the final despite the odd looks he had garnered from the rest of the spectators. Scott had been as proud as he is horrified when Stiles credited him for the giving of the apron to the local paper that were covering his winning in the competition.

Though he had kept it because he really liked the sheer bizarreness of it.

Scott's constipated reaction to it each time he saw it hanging innocently in the kitchen is an added bonus that he would not exchange anything in the world for.

It took him a moment to reel in his control and by then his cheeks were already aching from the long time he had went through without bursting into laughter or even cracking a wide smile that made his face ache but it is a pleasant ache as he wiped away the tears that had escaped the corner of his eyes.

God, he really needed that.

And it looks like his uncle had worn the apron on purpose too based on the slight crinkling around his eyes and the somewhat lopsided quirk of his lips. Despite there being no blood relation between his father and his uncle, the two of them have so much similarities that in moments like this, it makes his heart ache with poignant lilt.

He is already missing his dad so much that it actually hurt to see the shadow of his dad in his uncle but he could not let that drown him because it is not his uncle's fault that he reminded him so much of his now deceased father. Besides, it is not like he is not torturing his uncle with the similarities he shared with his mother, aka his uncle's sister.

"You three stooges ready for breakfast?"

His uncle asked and the two limpets wrapped around him finally shifted just enough for him to sit up on the bed whilst a jaw breaking yawn broke out from him. He stretched his limbs upward and moaned in delight at the sensation of popping bones and crick ebbing away from the stiff muscles being stretched.

Nothing beat the stretching sensation after a long sleep, well maybe other than a big mug of highly caffeinated black coffee that is.

"Breakfast sound great, I'm starving."

He heard Clint mumbling to his left and the man imitated his previous action of stretching, though he did it while standing up and with no sound of popping bones. Stiles does not even have to look to his right to know that Natasha is already up on her feet as if she had not laid curled around him for hours.

Honestly if he did not know just who they are and what they do as work, he would have thought they are supernatural creatures much like his friends. Well except for Uncle Phil that is, his uncle is already too badass as a squishy little human to need the supernatural boost.

Rolling out from the bed, he allowed for himself to be pulled to his feet by Clint. He staggered slightly due to his legs not being awake enough but Natasha was immediately by his side with a steadying hand on his elbow. Between the two adults, he was herded out from the room and Stiles gave a light grumble of discontent when his already messy bed hair was ruffled by his uncle.

He is sure it looked like a bird nest at the moment.

They made their way to the kitchen but Stiles detoured to the bathroom with an excuse to relieve himself and also to wash up his face to at least look somewhat presentable even though he is sure he looked like a walking corpse with the dark bags under his eyes and pale skin.

Closing the door behind him, Stiles leaned against the well-worn wood for a moment to collect himself before pushing himself away from it, He made a bee line to the sink and did not bother to look at the mirror to know just how horrendous he looked.

He just opened the tap and let the water flow over his shaking hands before gathering it in between his cupped hands. It took a couple of tries to bring the cool liquid to his face due to his shaking hands but when he managed to wash off the grime from last night off his face, he braved himself to look into the reflective surface in front of him.

True to his expectations, the skin under his eyes are almost a permanent shade of black from the lack of sleep and stress and his eyes are bloodshot from the amount of crying he had been doing ever since his father was declared dead. His skin is in a sickly shade of pale, a far outcry from his usual creamy pallor that so easily flushed pink when blood rushed up to his cheeks. The lips were chapped and dry, some having been bitten off during his fits of anxiety and he looked gaunter than his usual gangly self.

God, he looked like a total wreck and he could only wonder how his uncle could look at him without flinching, as if there were nothing wrong with him.

Wiping away the excess liquid from his face, he combed a hand through his hair to make it look somewhat organized instead of the messy tangle it used to be and backed away from the mirror before he sees something that would bring forward memories that he hoped he could forever forget.

Stiles went down the corridor that lead to the kitchen and wondered if his uncle would allow him to keep this house if he asked. Yes, he wanted nothing more than to get out from this accursed town that took so much from him but this house held so much memories of both of his parent that he does not want to abandon it just like that. He knew it would be years until he would ever return to this town willingly after he leave it but this house is a treasure that he would not exchange the world for.

It is the house where he took his first step, where he spoke his first word, where he has his first sleepover, where he has his first kiss. The house held so much memories of his first in life that the thought of leaving it to rot away actually hurt more than anything else. It is where he spent a huge chunk of his life in and where his parents had spent the rest of their life in.

It is a part of the family as much as Roscoe is since the Jeep was his mother's.

Reaching the kitchen, he stopped at the entranceway to stare at the domestic image that his remaining family made as they moved around the kitchen with an ease between them that made him somewhat envious. He had long since longed to have that kind of ease with someone else other than his family, much like the bond his uncle have with the two of them.

He and Scott used to have it but it had been strained thin ever since the event of Nogitsune and broken by Scott siding with Theo. It was his first taste of betrayal and it is not a flavor that he wished to ever taste again. Having Scott siding against him had been far worse than being mauled by vengeful werewolves and he does not think he would be able to forgive Scott for being the main reason that lead to the death of his father.

"Incoming emergency landing. Mayday."

He was jostled away from his thought by the sudden assault of flavors on his taste bud and instinctively clamped him mouth shut around it. His eyes widened in alarm as it locked with the grinning face of Clint, who held the spoon that he had used to feed Stiles whatever it is that he had fed him.

"Now enough thinking, breakfast first. Let's fill this skinny body of yours with food. Nat is making her mean omelet."

Clint slung an arm around Stiles' shoulder and dragged him further into the kitchen despite the weak struggle Stiles had put up at the manhandling he received. Sighing softly under his breath, Stiles chewed on the food that had been shoved into his mouth and felt both of his eyebrows rise up in surprise. It is the familiar taste of his mother's berry pancake and there's only one other person than him who knew the recipe of it. His eyes zeroed in on his uncle, who was flipping a pancake like he is the most normal person in the world when Stiles is completely aware of what his uncle do as work.

Stiles knew his uncle had stopped cooking a long time ago because it had been a painful reminder of the sister he had lost. Cooking had been a thing between the two of them when growing up with only each other to lean on and Stiles is more than aware of the lingering gaze that his uncle had sent his way whenever he dished out one of his mother's recipe during their family time together.

So it is a surprise to see him here, in the kitchen that are so full of Claudia's memories, cooking one of her recipe like he had not been avoiding it like the plague ever since her death. It stumped him speechless but he was not given the chance to say anything to him when a plate of piping hot omelet was set in front of him.

"Eat up Little Red."

"Yeah, eat up. She wouldn't let me have any until you eat first."

Stiles watched in fond amusement as the two adults dissolved into one of their many argument over the slightest thing in life. He missed this. He missed hearing them arguing over the littlest thing. He missed the easy camaraderie they have. But most of all, he missed to simply have them in his life. They are the two people that had become a family to him as much as his own blood family are to him and he loves them to boot.

A hand ruffled his hair and this time he did not bother complaining about it because he knew it would not be the last one he would receive from them and knowing them, they would never stop at all. Another plate was set down in front of him but this time, it contained the fluffy pancake that he too had stopped making ever since his mother's death. His eyes sting at the sight of it.

The hand in his hair moved down to his neck and it began to rub soothing circle on the skin. Stiles sagged against his uncle much like he had done at the funeral and sucked in every drop of comfort that his uncle is giving him with fervent desperation.

The reality of the situation finally hit him with the force of a freight train and he felt breathless at the face of it. He is officially an orphan and they are here to take him away from this accursed town. They are here for him, who have no one left other than them. His parents are now dead, buried six feet under beside each other.

"Let us take care of you this time Stiles. Let us. Please."

Hearing the desperate pleas in his uncle's voice is what finally made him let go of the strong mask he had forced onto himself ever since his mother's death. If it was anyone else, he would have been more adamant on holding firmly to it but his uncle is the last piece of his parents that he still has left, he is his family by blood and that is what mattered to him right now.

He is not alone.

"Okay."

His voice was cracked from the lack of usage but it is the truest thing he had ever said ever since his father was pronounced dead. He knew they would not coddle him like he is a child that could not care for himself but right now, he will enjoy every comfort they offered him because he really needed it to patch up himself.

 **So I have been thinking. Should I give Stiles someone to love romantically? I am thinking of good old Sterek but I am planning to try out something new with keeping Sterek as Bromance level. Do you have anyone that you would wish Stiles to be with or should I give him an original character that I have in mind. I am in complete dilemma about the three choices**


	8. Chapter 8

**I received quite the good acceptance for the last chapter and thank you for those who had commented their suggestion to me. I will keep all of it in mind for future musing. Anyway, thank you for all of your supports!**

After the somewhat tearful breakfast they had, Phil left the Stilinski house to tie up all the loose ends before moving Stiles away from this town. He entrusted Stiles with the two assassins without any doubt because he knew even if it come hell or high water, those two would not allow anything or anyone to hurt his nephew.

He would not trust the safety of Stiles to anyone if it were not those two who guarded him.

His first stop is the school because he knew just how many legal paperwork he has to go through in order to transfer Stiles to New York and into the wide selection of high school that he already have in mind. Between the combined salary the three of them had opted to pool together, they more than just afforded to enroll Stiles to any school that he wished to go, even the private one if Pepper have any say in it or if Tony had not stuck his nose in it too beforehand.

Nevertheless, he had narrowed it down slightly to any high school that are nearest to the Avenger Tower. He is not comfortable enough to let Stiles to go anywhere that is too far away from his immediate reach. So, it left him with the choices of high schools in the Manhattan area and he already have the perfect one in mind unless Stiles wished to go to another one of his own choice that is.

But Phil would not let his nephew go to school anytime soon. He knew it would at least take a while for Stiles to come to term with his lost and Phil does not want to overwhelm him with school before he got settled into his new life in New York.

Though a small part of him had whispered it is due to his selfish need to keep his nephew close as he too come to term with his own lost.

He parked the black sedan car that Tony had booked for them during their stay here, Phil took a moment to look at the whole building with critically analyzing gaze. While Stiles was embraced by the protective cocoon of two assassins last night, Phil had opted to do his own research on the case that had led to the death of his brother in law whilst holding down the fort against any potential threat that could have been targeting them or his nephew.

That search of his lead him to many unsolved mystery cases that managed to make his greying eyebrows climb up more and more to the point where it reached his receding hairline. His eyes roved over each word that was projected on his computer screen and found himself to be baffled over the sheer amount of reports that involved his nephew and his friends.

Admitted into the local mad house.

 _Jesus Christ._

What the hell was John thinking when he did that and why the hell was he not informed of this. He and John always have an open relationship, well not that open since Phil have many restricted info that are national security that he could not disclose to him but they have an open relationship when it concerned both Claudia and Stiles.

John always tell him about Stiles' life and in return, Phil would tell him whatever that Stiles had reached out to him for whenever the two Stilinski butted head over something. Though the exchange had been sparse to none these past year and now Phil can finally see why.

Serial killers, assassins, homicide, unexplainable deaths, and a disturbingly high amount of animal attack related death. Based on these classified files, Stiles had been involved in many of it, even being the victims of some of it too. Most of it is just too outrageous that he could only wonder just what the hell Stiles is feeling right now after going through all of the things that he had went through.

Being held paralyzed to witness the death of a mechanic. **_JESUS FUCKING CHRIST_**. He knew trained agents that does not get out of that kind of mental torture with even a scrap of sanity and Stiles had been _sixteen_ when that happened.

The list just goes on and on and Phil began to wonder if Stiles might actually need therapy instead of being transferred into a new school. He could already list all of the potential psychological damages that his nephew has and PTSD is at the very top of it. He had thought that Stiles would actually be safe here, so far out of his enemies' radar that no harm would befall him in this seemingly nondescript town but it looks like he was dead wrong.

This supposedly small and normal town has its own horror and his nephew had been the victims of many of such atrocities that Phil would not be surprised if the psychologists have a field day with his nephew if they actually got their hands on him. He had his own suspicion of what the causes of the many unexplainable deaths and he could only hope that his nephew had not faced any of those causes. There are creatures out there that he had met in his line of works and he does not wish for his nephew to meet any of those creatures.

And the worst of all, Stiles had lost his friends to some of these unexplainable cases. The first had been Vernon Boyd and Erica Reyes, then Heather Smith, Allison Argent and Aiden Lupus. God why had John not told him all of these? Both of them knew just how much Stiles cared for his friends, Scott being the prime example of how far Stiles his nephew is willing to go for someone whom he had taken under his wing. And Phil can only wonder just how bad the damages of losing each of them had caused his nephews.

Here he thought he is only taking in an orphaned teenager. But as it turned out, he is taking in an orphaned teenager with mountain load of psychological damages and loses. God, he does not even know where to start with his nephew.

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Phil killed the engine and slipped out from the car. He had worn his usual uniform, only minus the logo on the breast pocket and made his way to the school entrance. He could already feel the curious eyes of the teenagers that peered at him as they nudged each other in questions. Some of them had obviously seen him at the funeral and some are just curious of the presence of an unknown adult within the school compound.

He ignored all of it and made a bee line toward the principal office, fully aware that his presence is expected from last night's call. A flash of red from the corner of his eyes caught his attention and he deceptively turned his eyes toward it whilst making it looked like as if he was glancing at the watch at his wrist.

Red eyes met him and it took all his training to not tense under it, thus revealing his cover of a nondescript man merely looking at his watch for time. His finger itched for the gun he had hidden in between the folds of his clothes but he refrained himself because he does not have back up here if the Alpha decided to attack him.

Yes he knew of the existence of the supernatural creatures, hard not to when he worked with meta humans and otherworldly creatures on a daily basis. He knew the werewolf could smell the gunpowder on his person Phil silently berated himself on not thinking forward to bring the scentless one instead. He should have known this time would not escape the clutch of the supernatural world, no place is to begin with.

With decades of practiced calmness, he forced his heart to calm down by thinking about his nephew, of the love he held for the boy and also of his sister. It did not take him long to be in complete control of himself once again as he strode into the principal office whilst feeling multiple predators' eyes stabbing his back as the door closed behind him.

He had been trained to counteract many supernatural creatures and knew enough ways to fool them but from the look of it, those werewolves must have known Stiles if they could narrow down onto him just because they caught a whiff of his nephew's scent but only it lingering on him instead of the real person.

So, his suspicion was proven right, Stiles is involved in the supernatural and from the look of it, the Alpha truly is someone close to him if the flashing eyes is any indications. No half-baked Alpha would willingly reveal themselves to a potential threat if it were not for them feeling one of their own being threatened. The Alpha must have speculated that he had done something to Stiles for a relative stranger like him to have a strong stench of his pack mate's scent on him.

Though it made Phil wonder where this Alpha and so called pack is last night. It is a common knowledge within the supernatural world that werewolves are tactile and protective creatures, especially toward the most vulnerable member of their pack. So of course, Phil is wondering why none of them had come to the Stilinski house to be with Stiles at his most vulnerable moment of losing his father. It would be against their natural instinct to just leave Stiles wallowing in his own misery alone.

Unless something had happened to make them keep their distance with his nephew or perhaps Stiles had done something to keep them out. Knowing his nephew, it could be a mix of both and it is not hard for Phil to make his own conclusion that whatever it is that had happened, it leads to the death of John. There's only one reason after all if his nephew goes out of his way to push someone out of his life, the person caused him to lose someone precious to him and this time, the person is his father.

Somewhere at the back of his mind, the memory of a younger Stiles raging at him to get out of his life flashed to the forefront of his mind before Phil mercilessly squashed it. He knew it had only been grief talking at that time but the blow had hurt more than anything else. It was what had driven him to be better for his nephew.

He was lured away from his dwindling thought when the principal greeted him with an amicable smile that Phil mirrored as they shook hand. Phil allowed for himself to be lost in the familiar ground of paperwork and the hours passed before he realized that they had finally come to an end with the finalizing of the paperwork needed to transfer Stiles to New York.

The principal seemed approving with the decision Phil had made to give Stiles some time out before starting school and they parted way after the woman offered her condolence to their lost. Phil returned her pitying smile with a tight one and it took him all his willpower to not slam the door shut behind him when he exited the office.

He hates the pitying look people gave him once they realized who he is, it reminded him all too much of the time when he had lost Claudia. This further solidified Phil's belief that he is making the right decision on taking Stiles away from his childhood hometown, away from his friends and life. Phil knew his nephew. The boy hates it more than anything to be pitied by the people around him and Phil knew it would drive him insane if everyone around him treated him as if he is a fragile little thing that would break at the slightest touch.

So, taking his nephew away to live with him in New York had been the right thing to do in order to help him recover from the crippling lost.

Phil was not given a moment of reprieve because the next thing he knew, he was cornered by a group of teenagers with flashing eyes and twitching claws. Each of their face were twisted into a formidable scowl, though only the red-haired girl managed to look downright terrifying despite not having the glowing eyes like her friend and that is only because the similarities she shared with a certain red haired assassin that he knows.

But none of them managed to make him loose his calm because being in his line of work, he had met many people that could make trained agents lose their shits and compared to them, these teenagers looked like a group of puppies trying to become snarling wolves.

Heh, Stiles got his sarcasm and biting quips from somewhere after all and it certainly does not come from the Stilinski side of the family.

"Where's Stiles?"

The Alpha growled in a manner that Phil assumed it is meant to be threatening but Phil only met the snarling face with a dour face that expressed just how unimpressed he is at the teen's attempt to appear bigger than he is. Honestly he has enough of all of this posturing from self-centered villains that think themselves to be worth all the time in the world and Phil is seriously questioning these teenagers' common senses in cornering him in the middle of the day and not to mention, in a crowded school where anyone can see their transformed faces and glowing eyes.

Seriously.

Most of these days he thinks he is trapped in a fantastical fictional world what with the presence of all the supernatural creatures that are supposed to be myth and also the existence of metahuman that he worked with on daily basis. He is not paid enough to deal with all of the bullshit he goes through as work and in his life.

"Here I thought werewolves are supposed to be sharp. Use your nose boy, you can smell the relation I shared with my own nephew. Jesus Christ, shut off your glowing eyes unless you want someone to see that is."

Phil is honestly too tired to deal with them right now and definitely not patient enough to face their bullshit posturing of trying to scare the hell out of him. They had obviously thought him to be a hunter based on the smell of gunpowder on him but honestly speaking, it should not be strong enough to cover his natural scents and the scent that biological family members shared. It had been tested and proven right by the noses of many supernatural researchers.

He only watched with patent exasperation as realization flooded their faces though the Alpha's face looked alarmingly amusing at each passing second because it appeared to be stuck in between an expression of denial and relief. Phil have an inkling of the reason that warranted that expression.

"B-But You're dead! You're supposed to be dead! Stiles said so!"

The Alpha spluttered, the red receding from his eyes now that he lost his composure and the focus needed to wield it. Honestly, this boy is beginning to remind him of a puppy, an overgrown puppy and Phil's mind immediately connected the dot on the identity of the Alpha.

Scott McCall.

Of course, it would be his nephew's best friend, the brother from another mother. There's no other solid reason as of why Stiles would dabble with the supernatural world, unless when his own curiosity get the better of him that is.

Phil shrugged his shoulders, appearing completely nonchalant at his supposed death because he knew his nephew well enough to know that the boy had obviously went to the McCall upon receiving the news of his supposed death during the Chitauri invasion and forgot to update his best friend on his living status when it proves to be a false alarm.

Yep, that definitely sounds like his nephew right there.

"Then you're obviously not attentive enough about him to miss it."

The boy flinched, as if he had hit a sore spot with what he had said and it made Phil wondered once again if he is not that far off the truth with that one if the boy's reaction to it was anything to go by. The rest of the teenagers held a look of guilt and another one of Phil's suspicion was proven right once again. So, it was true that these teenagers had done something to make Stiles push them away from him and it is not hard to guess that them avoiding him over something being one of the reason that lead to it.

"If that is all, I have other things to finish before I take Stiles with me."

Phil shouldered his way through the teenagers, though it is not hard with the way they shied away from him and avoiding eye contact with him. He felt the suppressed anger that he always kept on a tight and short leash rise up inside of him at the sight of their guilt-ridden face despite not knowing fully just what they had done to his nephew.

His protective urge over his nephew rearing its ugly head upon facing the causes that had made his nephew so broken. If he is anyone else, he would have snapped each of their necks without a drop of remorse just because they had added up to his nephew's grief of losing his father. Nothing in this world can make him turn into the monsters he worked with other than for the reason of protecting those he loves.

"Wait!"

He did not stop at the shout because he knew he is not in control of himself enough to stop himself from brandishing one of his hidden weapon against these minors. He does not think he would get away by electrocuting one of them using the cattle prod, unless they kept a tight lid about it that is.

"C-Can I see Stiles? Please. Just let me talk to him at least."

The McCall boy stuttered with hesitation at first but it soon trailed off to outright begging from the sheer desperation in his voice. Yet Phil is not in a forgiving mood at the moment. He does not want any of them to be anywhere near his nephew and he definitely would not let them contact him if his nephew indeed goes out of his way to keep them away from him.

But he is not sure that his nephew really want to completely sever his connection with them, the choice is still Stiles' to make and Phil would not interfere with that, even if he wanted nothing more than to keep his nephew halfway across the world from them.

"I will ask him later and I will tell your mother if he wanted to talk with you. Until then, stay away from him."

So with that said, he exited the school with ease, losing the teenagers on his trail by following the flow of their schoolmates exiting the building. He entered his car and ignited the engine long enough for it to warm over before peeling away from the parking lot.

He made sure to make them completely loose him by flicking on the camouflage function that made the physical appearance of the car appearing different than before. What used to be a sleek black sedan is a nondescript rusty four wheels that are a norm in this area. His own scent was clouded by the spray of scentless odor that S.H.I.E.L.D researchers had produced for situations like this.

Sometimes he really loves being an agent for a spy organization, especially with the high tech that the civilians could only dream about. Though he only hopes his own pay is totally worth the whole shit that keep on happening around him. But in moments like this, he always uses all the resources he has at hand just to be annoying under the pretense of being a spy.

No one ever said that Phil is not a vindictive bastard when it comes to those he cared for and Tony have a long list along with PowerPoint projections on it. He is pretty sure the billionaire even has videos to go with it.

Chuckling softly in sardonic amusement under his breath, Phil turned at the corner of the street that lead to the hospital. Now though, he has a nurse to meet and countless deaths to be uncovered.

So yeah, a bit OOC for Phil but in my defense, he is an overprotective uncle who is too tired of everything and doesn't have time for any more teenage dramas. So yeah, he is badass and aware of the presence of the supernatural, though not everyone in S.H.I.E.L.D know, only the highest level agents know.

 **So yeah, a bit OOC for Phil but in my defense, he is an overprotective uncle who is too tired of everything and doesn't have time for any more teenage dramas. So yeah, he is badass and aware of the presence of the supernatural, though not everyone in S.H.I.E.L.D know, only the highest level agents know.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Sorry! The earlier upload ended up being codes and thank you to a guest for pointing it out. I didn't realize it nor did I understand why. Anyway, sorry and here is the real one.**

It took him three days to be done with all of the paperwork needed to transfer Stiles to New York and Phil had not let his guard down for the slightest bit throughout the whole process, not even when he goes to sleep. There is just this uneasy sensation in his gut that kept him alert at all time and Phil had long since come to realization that his gut feeling is never wrong. He had learned to trust it through the hard way and after that one mistake that had costed him so much, he knew something big would happen soon.

His uneasiness does not go unnoticed by the two assassins and it did not take long for them to corner him after tucking Stiles to sleep. They did not say anything to him, merely looking at him with expectant eyes that glistened with unwavering loyalty that still left him breathless at times. From that look alone, Phil knew they will believe whatever it is that he would say without a moment of hesitation or doubt, even if it is only him being perturbed over something that is unseen.

Sometimes he wondered just what good deed he had done in his life to deserve the unwavering loyalty of these two pragmatic human.

Phil took a seat on the one-person sofa and sank into the well-worn furniture with an air of utter exhaustion, shoulders sagging with unseeing burden that he had taken upon himself. He does not even have to look up to know that the two of them had claimed the love seat for themselves, sitting so close with each other that they would have melded together into one if they are not a solid being.

If Clint had not already had a wife with two children of his own and one other coming soon, he would have thought them to be involved in a relationship had he had not known both of them on a personal level. The kind of closeness these two have is something that Phil still could not fully wrap his head around. They are two sides of the same jaded coin that had went through so much adversaries in life but still come out unyielding at the face of it.

And they had chosen him to be their voice of reason, their moral compass, which still make his chest warm up with pride and joy each time he was reminded of it.

"I had never said it out loud before but truly. Thank you."

Their exchange of gratitude is usually an unspoken one, only needing eye contact and acknowledging nod but Phil think they deserve to know just how grateful he is of their presence here with him. He wants them to know that he is beyond gratified to have them supporting him during his most vulnerable moment and also for protecting his nephew, the only family he has left.

Though he did not say what he is thanking them for. He did not have to. The two of them already knew just what he is being grateful about and from the light twinkling of their battle-hardened eyes, he already knew that his unspoken message had been received by them, loud and clear. There is no need for him to say anything more when the three of them preferred to keep their relationship simple.

Phil shot them a genial smile as he felt some of the tension ebbing away from his previously stiff shoulders, the muscle that had been wounding taut under his skin from the continuous apprehension that he had been feeling for days relaxing as he sagged into the sofa.

God, he feels so exhausted.

"So gonna tell us what have been bothering you or do you want Nat to get it out of you through the old-fashioned way. I am game either way. Though I will need popcorn for the last one."

Clint remarked, breaking the comfortable silence that had blanketed them. His blue eyes sparkled with unhidden mirth that was magnified by the unholy twist of his lips but Phil could not even find the energy in himself to be exasperated about it.

"I wouldn't mind doing it the other way. Been a while and don't want to let myself get rusty."

Natasha added her two cents into the camaraderie that they are already building up and Phil could only shoot a small smile toward her way, amused despite the questionable twinkle in her green eyes. Sometimes there are things that are better off to be taken at face value instead of trying to look for the hidden nuggets.

"I will speak, no need the violence." Phil huffed, smiling despite the situation.

They settled into silence once again but he took the moment that they had given him to recompose himself. He will need all of the strength he has to explain the situation to them, especially when it concerned Stiles. These two can be relentless when what was theirs were threatened after all.

"I know you two had probably pieced something together without my help but there's something else that you must know."

Once he began to talk, he could not stop and none of them had cut in to ask questions. They had silently heard what he got to say, keeping up their mask of professionalism like they are being debriefed and this situation is no different after all.

He told them of what he had managed to find when he scoured the whole database of the Beacon Hill Police Department and the hospital. He told them his speculations on how Stiles was involved with most of the so called freak incidents and animal attacks, of the high probability that Stiles had found himself in the supernatural world, of the local pack whose Alpha is Stiles' best friend.

Phil told them everything that he had found so far, leaving nothing behind despite the increasingly darkening look in their eyes when he told them about Stiles' time in the local mad house. They still does not have the whole picture, that is up to Stiles if he would ever tell them or not but now, they at least have a gist of what his nephew had went through. He does not know how long he had been talking but his throat is raw by the end of it, his own stormy expression mirrored by the two assassins in front of him.

He could understand their own frustration at this situation because if they had known this would happen to Stiles during their absence, they would have never kept their distance all those years ago. They had come to decision that it would be best to limit their contact with Stiles ever since they joined the Avengers because they had thought it would keep Stiles safer that way but it looks like trouble always find a way to get to his nephew, even without them by his side.

He could already see their regret but they did not let it overwhelm them because they all know they have a bigger problem at hand, how to deal with Stiles.

They had all thought that they would only be taking in a boy mourning for the loss of his father. They had not thought that said boy would be riddled with the possibilities of many psychological and mental damage that would leave many of their trained agents over the edge.

Gone were the hyperactive boy who could not stop talking even if his life depended on it, in his place is a broken teenager who had seen too many things that he was not supposed to, whose eyes used to be so bright with life but now nothing more than a shattered mirror that gazed blindly.

It killed them more than anything to see him like that, looking so dead like a ghost drifting amidst the memories of the past, gaze desolate as he wandered down the hall of his childhood home. It reminded them too much of the woman Claudia had become when the dementia had finally claimed her. And that frightened them more than any supervillain could ever do.

"We will be there for him."

Surprisingly it was Natasha who broke the silence first this time and Phil met her eyes with slight curiosity but he only received a steely gaze in return, the green of her eyes looking more like a pool of venom instead of the usual emerald green it was often described as. He is honestly not surprised by that because if there is anyone who could relate to his nephew the most right now, it would be her. God know just how many psychological and mental damage the Red Room had caused her.

His eyes went to Clint when he did not receive any response from the archer. The expression on the blonde's face is something that he had not seen in a very long time, the last had been when he had stared the man down from the other end of the gun. It was an expression of pure animalistic rage, compressed into the grim lines of his youthful face as his blue eyes seemed to glow wildly under the lighting.

It was the same expression that had sent many men running for their life during Clint's years as a mercenary.

Of course Clint would be more raw about it. The man had basically claimed his nephew as his own and had vowed to never let any darkness touched him but look at what had happened. His decision to keep a distance between them for Stiles' safety had backfired on him and now the boy he wanted so much to keep safe is left as nothing more than a hollow husk of the one he knew.

Phil could relate to him because that is also what had been going through his head when he first found out.

"Fuck. We should had not been away. **_I_** should've been there for him."

Like a mannequin with its string severed, Clint deflated into his seat, all tension bleeding out of him as his face crumpled into an expression of utter anguish and Phil had never seen him looked so defeated, not even when he had failed his mission.

"And we will be this time around. Stiles is a strong kid; he would not let this keep him down."

Phil reminded him in an attempt to console him and also himself. They all had failed to be there for him when he needed them the most and now they reaped what they sowed. If they have to pick up every piece of Stiles in order to put him back together again, then that is what he will do.

They had failed Stiles the first time but they would not let it happen for the second time. There would be no second time, not when they could not afford it.

"I know Phil. Kid's a tough nut to crack but fuck. That's a lot of shit for a teenager to handle."

Phil just watched as Clint scrubbed his calloused hand over his face, movement jerky with the stifled tightness that was his control.

"But he will have us to help him this time." _And the team_ was left unspoken by Natasha because they knew that the rest of the Avengers would soon wiggle their way in toward Stiles if they knew just how bad the situation is. They might have been a rambunctious bunch with a penchant for property damage but they are good people with a bleeding heart, even Tony, even if the billionaire claimed that he has no heart to bleed out.

"But we must let him take this at his own pace, let him come to us."

Because that is the only thing they could do now, wait. They cannot push Stiles to talk about it when the boy does not want to. They could not risk triggering one of the traumas that they are very much sure he has.

Both assassins nodded their head in acquiescence to his condition and all three of them settled into the silence that had fallen over them once again as they waited for the sun to come out from the horizon

So yeah, I enjoyed writing from Phil's POV for some reason and we have the three of them together once again. I promise the next chapter would have more plot development but I really just need to get this out of my system before I continue.

 **As for some of your suggestions, they are great but I honestly haven't watched any of the series and movies that most of you suggested to me, I read their fanfiction mostly and even then, not much. I am mainly focusing on Teen Wolf and Avengers, perhaps a dash of Thor universe since I really like their myth. The rest would be gradually added as I do my research on them. Though Peter Parker might be added in because most of you suggested him to me.**

 **On the question of the romantic relationship for Stiles, that would not be happening anytime soon but I really just have to ask you guys to get it out of my head. It might happen after Stiles had finally settled down enough and had better grip on his issues but even then, it would be a slow burn one, like the slowest of the slow burn because I like slow burning relationship. Or perhaps, it wouldn't happen at all because I love intimate platonic relationship so much but oh well, we will see where this one goes because I am never the type to follow guidelines, especially the one that I had put down myself.**

 **So as usual, leave a review on the way out so that I can know your thoughts on this one. Any constructive criticism can be thrown my way, I love them and don't worry about offending me, it took more than that to offend me**


	10. Chapter 10

**So as promised, some plot development but knowing me, it is still at a crawling pace. Thank you for those who had commented and supported me! I am so happy to read all of your responses to my fic.**

The knock on the door the following morning had Natasha instinctively reaching for the concealed gun she had slipped in between the fold of the loose she wore and she took a moment to look at the video feed of the front door hidden surveillance camera. Phil had taken Stiles with him to the hospital in order to check out the legal papers that involved John's hospitalization bills and Clint had opted to shadow them as he checks out the hospital's database for any peculiarities.

So Natasha was the only one left to hold down the fort at the Stilinski house and they were not expecting anyone.

The video showed the image of a man in his mid-twenties and he wore the police department uniform. Her mind noted that he looked too youthful to be holding his station but it is not like she is in any place to be talking about looking younger than her supposed age.

Checking to make sure that her weapons are fully loaded and ready to be used in case of any hostilities, she opened the door widely like any other unsuspecting civilian. She is only here as a relative for Stiles after all, no need to make people be suspicious and think her as something else.

"Yes? How can I help you?"

She put on an expression of light curiosity but at the same time with hints of cautiousness, much like how every other woman out there would have done when they are approached by a complete stranger in police uniform.

For all she knew he could be an undercover agent that one of their enemies had sent.

The somewhat surprised look on the blonde's face did not escape her eyes but she did not let go of her cover as she gripped the knob of the door in a seemingly anxious manner when the man continued to stare at her in assessment.

"Um, officer, is there something the matter? Does it concern John and my nephew?"

Natasha added a dash of concern and uncertainty to her voice and made herself to fidget slightly in her spot. Her persona is of a concerned sister in law to the recently deceased town sheriff and had come for the funeral and the orphaned nephew. It helped that she has genuine concern over the safety of Stiles and it is easy enough for her to slip into the persona.

Right now, she is Phil's youthful wife and Stiles' aunt.

And the unsuspecting officer fall to the trick with hook, line and sinker.

"I am sorry for bothering you Miss…" The man trailed off and looked uncertain on how to address her and Natasha took pity on him.

"Natalia Zieliński, Phil's wife and Stiles' aunt."

She opted to keep her identity as close to the truth as possible because Stiles had obviously introduced her to everyone else as 'Aunt Nat' and it is better safe than sorry.

"I am sorry for bothering you at this hour Mrs. Zieliński but my name is Jordan Parrish, one of Sheriff Stilinski's deputy at the police department. I was hoping to speak with Stiles about his father's things at the station."

The slight widening of the man's pupil and the involuntary tick of his jaws gave her enough hints that this man in front of her is lying to her about something. He is obviously not lying about the identity since she had gone through background check on everyone in this town, especially those who had been close to both Stiles and John.

And this man in front of her is the true Jordan Parrish, unless he is an undercover agent with a Photostatic Veil at hand. For all her love in using it, Natasha loathe it when the impersonating device was used against her. S.H.I.E.L.D scientists still have not find a way for them to detect the usage of it.

But they do not have any reason to approach this house, unless there are more to John's death than being ambushed during line of duty.

With her suspicion increased, Natasha assessed the deputy with more scrutiny but at the same time made it subtle by morphing her face into an expression of grief. If this man is truly Jordan Parrish, the deputy of Beacon Hills Police Department, then he would have immediately apologized for invoking the emotions of sadness in the grieving family member of the recently deceased.

And true enough to her expectation, Parrish had immediately sputtered his apologies.

"I am so sorry again Ma'am, I did not mean to cause you grief by reminding you of the Sheriff. I am only here to talk with Stiles about his things, nothing else."

Natasha curbed the glistening tears by rubbing at her eyes and cracked a weak smile to reassure him. Sometimes people are least suspecting when they are faced with a grieving person who are about to cry but holding it in. It is an impulsive reaction that make people drop down their guards, even trained deputies.

"No, it's fine. John's death is still fresh and he was such a good man. I and Phil had been too busy to come visit and we were planning to celebrate Thanksgiving together before he…."

She added in a choked sob just to play the man more deeply and Natasha covered her mouth to conceal her deceptively innocent smirk while making it appear as if she is trying to not burst into tears whilst hugging herself with her other arm.

Hunching her shoulders slightly, she added in a tremor as her hair covered a part of her face, just to make it all the more convincing. Manipulation is a part of her and she had it down in spades.

"Ma'am, I can only offer you my condolence. The Sheriff was a great man and his lost is definitely not a light blow to this town. Even to the end, he still upholds his duty."

The hint of regret and guilt in his voice just confirmed his true identity to her because no matter how experienced someone is in impersonating someone, no one can truly fake the genuine emotions of regret and guilt, well not when they are doing it against her that is.

There is a reason why people labeled her as the perfect spy after all.

Though the guilt and regret does bring up the question of 'why'. There are a lot of reason for the deputy to be feeling regret but the guilt does make her curious. Had this man did something to lead to John's death or is he also a part of the local supernatural pack in town?

It would be understandable if it was the last one but Natasha is not in a rush to make her own conclusion, she still has at least by the end of the week to come up with her own deduction of Stiles' involvement in the supernatural community and that is another four days.

That is more than enough time for her to gather the intel and evidence needed to piece up the whole picture with what Phil and Clint had managed to find.

"Thank you, officer. He was a good father too and I and Phil are worried for Stiles. Those two had always been close, more so after Claudia's death. I don't know what our nephew are going through right now, he had always been mature for his age but he is still a child. Poor boy, to lose both of his parents so early in life."

From the corner of her eyes, Natasha could see all of the raw emotions flashing through the man's surprisingly open face, looking more vulnerable than anyone of his station that Natasha had ever seen. Well it looks like she had found a goldmine in this man and his reaction just confirmed her suspicion on him being in the know of the supernatural happening in the town.

This just make her job all the more easier.

"Sorry, I got carried away sometimes. We Zieliński had never dealt well with loss."

Her action became somewhat flabbergasted as she pretended to force herself to be cheerful, quickly wiping away the tears that had been glistening in her eyes. The somewhat crooked pacifying smile she received from the deputy told her that the man is completely buying her act.

"Anyway, Phil took Stiles to the hospital to deal with John's hospitalization bills and also for a psych evaluation. Mellissa told us about his time in Eichen House, we just want to make sure he would be alright. It would take a while for them to be done, why don't I go in his stead? God know how Stiles would react to seeing his father's things. The station was like a playground for that boy while growing up."

It is easy enough to manipulate this vulnerable man with Stiles' name and she could already see the many ways she can subtly pull the information out of him without the man being any the wiser.

With a sad tone here, Stiles' and John's name there, it did not take much for Natasha to be in the front passenger seat of the cruiser within minutes of talking with the man. Subtle manipulation and reverse psychology always come in handy against a grieving person, whose mental barrier are already down to begin with.

Along the way to the station, Natasha only talked about the memories she shared with both John and Stiles, further tightening her control over the young deputy and also to reinforce her persona of a ditzy aunt who are open about her family. She even showed Parrish the baby picture of Stiles to affirm her claim.

But of course she did not mention who she truly is and what she do as work. To Parrish, she is a pastry chef and Phil is an accountant.

It is easier to play the character of a weak person when it involves servants of law because they always fall into the mindset of protecting the weaker human, thus allowing her to manipulate them further.

They arrived at the station soon enough and by then, Natasha had managed to fish out some personal information out of the deputy along with a couple of what she had been after. She knew that Parrish used to be a part of the military demolition crew and there had been a case of a bomb going off in this town, in the police station to be exact.

Based on the slight tightening of the man's fingers on the steering wheel and the tick in his jaws, Natasha deduced that he knew the assaulter personally but is unwilling to disclose the information to her. Natasha did not chase further, already getting enough to start her own intel dive into the station's database.

The man also accidentally hinted her about Stiles being the potential suspect to one Donovan Donati's death. Parrish had immediately changed the subject before she could ask more but Natasha had opted to let go of the subject with a somewhat genuine discontented huff.

Natasha knew Stiles. The boy is not the type to harm other willingly without a solid reason. Hell, Stiles would rather hurt himself than letting anyone get hurt. That is just who the boy is and she could not relate the boy she knew with the potential killer. Even if she knew that Stiles would not hesitate to do the dirty work for those he loves, he does not go out of his way to cause harm to people just because he could.

So that only leave her with the possibility of self-defense.

That is something she could see happening when it is in connection with Stiles.

Besides, she knew who Donovan Donati was. The boy's father used to be John's partner and she had met him before during one of her visit. The boy had attempted to take revenge on John for what had happened to his father through Stiles and Natasha had been the one to intercept it before any damage could be done.

Stiles did not know about it because he had been asleep at that time and Natasha had made sure that Donovan would not get anywhere near him. She did not expect for the boy to go after Stiles again and of course Stiles could only be defending himself against a stranger who is after him for vengeance.

Natasha kept her thought to herself because this man does not know just who she is and the resource she has at hand. Besides, Phil would understand more once she told him about it. Self-loathing on top of all the grief and traumas, God know just what is through Stiles' mind right now.

Parrish lead her inside and she only saw a couple of familiar faces mingling around the cubicles. Most of the older taskforce that she used to know had been decimated by the massacre done by a teenager named Matt Daehler and followed by the bombing of the station.

In fact, there is only four people who she remembered seeing from her last visit to this building four years ago, and the gravity of the horror that is happening in Beacon Hills finally descended on her.

For trained deputies to be taken down so quickly, she could only imagine the struggles that Stiles had went through in order to survive when he is at the center of the whole chaos.

She was shown to the Sheriff's office and she was struck by a sudden wave of melancholy when she stepped into the room. John had been nominated as the Sheriff long before Claudia was sick and she remembered the trio of Stilinski family creating so many memories in this room. She remembered the time she has to babysit Stiles here just because the boy was too fussy about not seeing his father, more so after Claudia's death.

It had almost been ten years now and Natasha is glad she is the one here instead of Stiles. God forbid the breakdown that Stiles would undoubtedly have upon seeing the memory laden room. He already has more than enough breakdown in the Stilinski house and they would not want to risk his health on him any more of it.

"Can you leave me alone for a moment?"

The stormy quality in her voice is genuine as she looked around the room and it did not take much prompting for the deputy to leave her be in the office. Natasha waited for him to go far enough before getting to what she is originally here for.

Inserting the USB into the computer, she downloaded everything from the database into it while pretending to organize the clutter that was on the table. A couple of documents managed to make her quirk up her eyebrows but she just mostly skimmed through it. She does not have enough time to properly plow her way through it from words by words.

Natasha unearthed a journal from a hidden compartment that contained John's spare service weapon and she immediately stored it away with things that she would have to show Phil later. It is not her place to go through something as personal as that and Natasha respected John enough not to read it.

She cleaned up everything that belonged to John and quickly stashed away the USB when it finished downloading before shutting off the computer. Just in time when Parrish entered with more empty boxes.

"Got more boxes for you. I never knew the Sheriff have so much stuff in here."

Parrish looked over the stuff that she had piled together on the table, most of it being photo frames that contained the pictures of the Stilinski family. None of it contained her, Clint and Phil because none of them want to risk their identity being exposed.

"Well the Stilinski had always been a packrat, much like us Zieliński. You should have seen the pile Claudia and John had accumulated at their home, God know just what monstrosities they had kept away in the attic."

Her voice picked up a wistful quality as she spoke about the two friends she had lost. It is not hard for her to fall into the persona because it is not that different than her current self. She is still someone who is grieving for the loss of a loved one.

Parrish snorted out a laugh at what she had said and Natasha pretended to not see the heartbroken look on the deputy's face when the man traced the picture of him with John and Stiles. She knew when to turn a blind eye to someone who needed the space to silently grieve.

She worked in the silence that had fallen over them and choose to not say anything when the man joined her half an hour later. Between the two of them, it did not take long to be done with it and by then, they already have five medium sized box to be taken away.

The room still looked like a piece of home despite having all of the personal touches being taken down. It had been a part of the Stilinski family for nearly a decade now and there are some stains that can never be washed away. Natasha could still see a couple of coffee stains on the table and rug, obviously from years of pulling an all nightery and also a crayon drawing on a patch of wall courtesy of Stiles. It had been the first thing Stiles had done when John had moved into the office.

It was a stick figure drawing of his family, with all of them in it. The colors were faded out but she is sure the brown glob with a black dot is supposed to be Nick Fury. Natasha had taken a couple of pictures of it to keep it as memory because she is sure it would either be washed away or be painted on when the next Sheriff got nominated.

It is a good thing it was her who come here today.

"I will put these away in the trunk."

Parrish suddenly declared, taking three boxes with him as he went out from the room. The ease of him carrying the heavy load made her curious because those boxes should be heavy and even if you are a trained deputy, no one should be able to carry it without a hint of struggle.

Unless you're not human to begin with.

Natasha added the new info to her growing list of questions and picked up the two remaining boxes with faked struggle, no need to draw suspicion to herself when she is supposed to be an untrained ditzy woman. Along her way to the front entrance, she subtly planted a couple of bugs that would aid her during tonight's break in that she had planned.

There's still a couple of hardcopy sealed files that she has not claimed after all.

She smiled amicably toward the deputies that offered their condolence and conversed with them seamlessly as they escorted her out. Most of them wished for Stiles to have a better life and Natasha found herself to be surprisingly genuine in her assurance toward them when it regarded Stiles.

The assurances are her vows and she would never break it.

"Here, let me help you with that."

A young man in his late twenties offered and Natasha tensed ever so slightly because she had not registered his presence until he had spoken beside her. She looked at the man with an assessing gaze and could not help but feel wry amusement at the sight of the red hoodie the man wore. The tussle of brown hair streaked with silvers made her think him of a punk and the grey eyes looked almost black due to the dark rings under the eyes.

But instead of sensing hostility or danger, this young man make her feel safe, as if his presence invoked the sensation of home. And that made her all the more wary of him.

She should not feel safe with someone who she does not know.

"Thank you but I think I will manage."

Natasha flashed him a slight smile but did not let her guard down as she made her way toward Parrish's parked cruiser. The young man had made too much of an impression to her for her to just dismiss him as nothing.

"Still as stubborn as ever Alianovna"

Hearing the name that she had not heard for a very long time made her freeze momentarily before she turned around so fast that it would have given her a whiplash if she had not conditioned her body to receive it.

But the young man was not there anymore and a single white flower petal fluttered down to where the young man used to stand.

With her heart thumping erratically in her chest, Natasha searched her surrounding for any sight of the young man but found none. Whoever the man is, he is not normal.

"Everything alright Ma'am?"

Parrish's voice made her tense but Natasha immediately fall into her previous persona like slipping on a second skin. No need to let her cover be blown just because an unknown managed to rattle her.

"Sorry, just reminiscing old memories."

"Well let me help you with that."

Natasha let him take the box from her and pretended to crouch down to fix the straps of her heels in order to subtly pluck the flower petal from the pavement. This is the only clue she has on her mysterious stranger and Natasha slipped it into the hidden compartment of her clothes as she stands up again.

She will have to scan it later but now though, she have a deputy to interrogate.

 **So yeah, crawling slow pace but to be honest, it was a struggle for me to write from Natasha's POV. She had always been the 'perfect' character with impeccable control over herself but I enjoy the challenge. And *drum roll* a new character being added up. I wouldn't say who he is or from what universe he is. He can be an OC and he can also be a canon character. Stiles will be leaving Beacon Hills on the 14th chapters I think but until then, stay tuned.**

 **Leave a review on the way out and I managed to make a new update for the second part of this series!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Yes I am still alive people. I am so sorry for the very late update. My mom just started her chemotherapy and my dad got admitted into the hospital for a surgery on his ankle. Things are hectic back home despite it being holiday session here and I am spending as much time as possible with my family before the new semester start next year.**

 **Anyway I made this longer than my previous chapters as an apology and thank you for your supports and patience with me.**

 **SORRY ABOUT THE PREVIOUS CODED ERROR. I DON'T KNOW WHY IT KEPT ON HAPPENING!**

Slowly removing the pressure of her foot on the gas pedal, Lydia allowed for her car to roll to a halt in front of the wooden two story house that had become all too familiar to her ever since she was dragged into the whole supernatural mess before her seventeenth birthday.

Before, the white painted house is like any other house in the neighborhood, nondescript and plain with nothing eye catching to it other than being the house of the town's Sheriff but after the whole nightmare had started, it had become a piece of solace to her amidst the chaotic whirlwind of supernatural horror.

It is where she would go to when everything become too much, knowing fully well that Stiles would be waiting there to welcome her with open arms.

She loves coming here because Stiles never asked her what was wrong, he only need to take one look at her face and he would proceed to lead her in to sit her down on the comfy sofa in front of the TV with a mug of warm herbal tea ready for her. They would then sit close with each other, arms brushing with the TV switched on in the background, letting whatever movie that was on fill the silence between them.

Sometime she even dozed off before the movie ended, body sagging like a marionette with its string cut from the warm tea soothing the frazzled nerve that had previously held her body high strung like a taut bowstring. And when morning come, she would later wake up in the Stilinski guest room, curled under the soft blanket that Stiles had obviously tucked around her.

Though it did not start off that smoothly in the first place.

Lydia does not know why she had seek Stiles out after the whole Kanima incident, after Jackson had left the town for good but it is a decision that she never regretted, glad even.

She had felt too out of her depth in her own room, felt trapped and caged in within the four-walled room that used to be her safe haven. A restless kind of itch had taken over her and the air felt too suffocating to breath in properly. She remembered rushing for her car, fighting with the key with trembling hand before tearing the car away from where she had parked it in front of her house and drove around without aim.

It is a miracle she had not gotten into any accident just from how scatter brained her thoughts were at that moment, vision unfocused and hands unsteady from the tremor that wrecked her whole body.

Her brain told her that it is symptom of anxiety, a tell-tale sign of an incoming panic attack from hypervigilance that was triggered by something within her room and she wanted nothing more than to succumb to it but something inside of her told her that it is not safe to break down there. That something scratched at the back of her mind, burning so deep in her chest that it left her breathless. So she had continued to drive aimlessly in the darkness of the night, barely able to breath properly as the primal urge guide her.

She does not remember much of what had happened but when she finally come down from it, she found herself lying on a well-worn sofa with a soft blanket draped over exhausted body and a fluffy pillow under her head. She had turned her head to the side and had blinked owlishly at the sight of Stiles curled on the battered but comfy looking armchair in front of her with an old leather bound book in his hands.

It had been a strange sight to her, to see the usually hyperactive boy sitting so still without his wiry limbs flailing around as his mouth moved to babble out whatever it is that had come to his mind and also seeing those liquid amber eyes so focused on something instead of looking around franticly.

But for some unknown reason, it sight felt oddly comforting to her.

Stiles did not ask her what was burdening her nor did he probe her on what had triggered the panic attack, he only smiled at her with understanding shining in his liquid amber eyes as he handed her a mug of steaming tea. She had sipped the warm tea in silence but she could feel her tense muscle relaxing from the influence of the herbal tea that Stiles had given her.

Stiles had switched on the TV to fill the silence and that was the start of the small ritual between them.

Each time Lydia came over, he would have her try out new teas that he had amassed and sometimes, there would also be pastries to go along with it. It had been a pleasant surprise to know of Stiles' talent in the kitchen but Lydia must admit that he makes the best soufflé she had ever tasted.

From sitting in separate seats, they had gravitated to each other until they both are sitting close, sometimes even cuddled together on the couch as they watched some cheesy romance comedy with Lydia lying on top of Stiles' chest.

They had kissed once but for some reason, none of them felt anything despite just having had each other's tongue down their throat. There were just no spark between them and they had both mutually agreed that they are better off as friend. Something inside of her ached at the lost chance because she knew Stiles would be a great boyfriend, even greater than most of her usual flings but she knew that it is for the best.

Stiles had come to mean too much to her for her to risk the relationship they had for something as ephemeral as a fling.

Stiles deserves better than that.

Their new friendship had earned a raised eyebrow from the Sheriff at first, the man obviously had known of his son big crush on her but he had been understanding of it once they explained the context of their relationship to him, more so after he was brought into the supernatural mess in Beacon Hills.

Like Stiles, Sheriff Stilinski did not ask her question as of why she come knocking on their door at two in the morning. He only need to take one look at her haunted face and silently stepped aside to allow her entrance to the warmth of the Stilinski household. If Stiles had been knocked out cold from the sleeping pill prescribed to him for his insomnia, then John Stilinski would be the one to make her tea from Stiles' collection of it.

Her mother had obviously been worried when she starts to spend so many time in the men filled house but the Sheriff had been the one to explain it to her, slowly breaking things down for her to digest and Lydia realized that that was the starting point of the relationship between her mother and Stiles' father.

Both of them had been happy for their parents, loving them too much to protest about it and both Lydia and Stiles were thrilled at the prospect of being official siblings. They had many dinners together as a family and slowly, many things that belonged to the Martin ladies began to take residence amongst the Stilinski men household.

For the first time ever, Lydia felt like she is home whenever she came over to the Stilinski house and her chest would always warmed up with contentment as she gazed at the family they had become.

There had been talk of marriage and both of them helped to reassure their parents that none of them minded it, loving the idea even. Stiles would later tell her what his father had planned and she would tell him what her mother had planned, though they did not tell their respective parent of what the other was planning. Together, both of them planned for the marriage that would happen once John popped the question.

But now, it would never happen and would forever remain an empty dream because John Stilinski is dead.

The news had hit her hard because John had become the father she never had and now, she would never have him as her father because the man is now buried six feet under. Her mother had been devastated because John had been the first man in many years whom she had ever loved so deeply as she had and both of them had cried in each other's arms when they had received the news.

The family that they had become and would have forever been was shattered and for the first time ever, Lydia felt a hate so profoundly deep that it threatened to consume her whole and that hate is directed toward Theo Raeken and Scott McCall.

Theo for being the one who caused it and Scott who let it happen.

A part of her wanted to hunt them down and make them feel the same pain that she and her family had felt and that part of her actually scared her because never before had she felt the maddening urge to bath her hands with the blood of someone. Yes, she often felt the need to hit someone for their stupidity but never had she felt the need to mutilate, to make them suffer, to make the pain lasting and the most alarming part is, she knew she would not regret it.

Theo is lucky he had fled Beacon Hills with his Chimera pack, otherwise Lydia would have undoubtedly find a way to avenge John if he had not. As for Scott, the only reason why she had not maimed him yet is because Stiles begged her not to. It broke something in her to see the usually strong willed boy begging her to let Scott go and seeing Stiles so broken like this made her anger ebb away, not gone but pushed to the back of her mind to simmer because Stiles needed her right now.

Stiles will need all of the support after having his whole world being torn down around him and Lydia would be damned if she allowed anything to hurt Stiles any more than the pain he is already going through with the loss of his father, of their father.

The beeping of her phone pulled her away from her darkening thoughts and she took it out to see the new message she had received. A frown settled on her face when she saw it is from Chris and she clicked on the notification to read the text.

 _Tracked them down to Sacramento. Resume or end?_

After John's death, Lydia had contacted Chris Argent and requested him and his hunter friends to hunt down the Chimera that had killed John. She is fully willing to pay them with every cent of her money as long as they managed to catch it, mind too consumed by the thirst of vengeance for the creature that had destroyed her family. Chris had been surprised by her request at first but the man is understanding of her reason and had accepted it.

She had been receiving regular update on the hunt and now that she is calm enough to think with a clear head and not too crazed for revenge, she thinks instant death is too easy of a punishment for the pain they had caused to John, to Stiles, to her mother, to her and most of all, to her family.

She wanted for them to suffer.

 _Detain. I want to see them first._

Tapping down the message with perfectly manicured fingers, she sends it to Chris with a feeling of grim satisfaction. Soon. She will meet with the killer of her father.

Putting away her phone in her bag, Lydia killed the engine and slipped out from the car with the bag slung over one shoulder. Her apple green eyes took sight of the front lawn of the Stilinski house and silently noted that the grass would need to be cut soon enough. Her gaze lingered on the group of garden gnomes that her mother had purchased and felt a twinge of pain stabbing her chest at the sight of it.

It is a family set, each having distinct characteristic of each of them and both her and Stiles had laughed themselves silly when her mother had presented it to them. Lydia remembered comparing it to their real self and Stiles' gnome has a red themed attire, which she had playfully pointed out as ironic because of the life they lived.

Remembering that memory stung because it is one of the most happiest memory she had ever since the whole supernatural clusterfuck had started and it is the memory that showed just what they had lost., of something they would had become if John had not died.

When their parents had started dating, both her and Stiles had curled up beside each other in his bed, quietly murmuring between them of the future they would have together as a family and it had been the most content she had been.

But they were shaken awake from the dreams with the death of John Stilinski and they are left bereft without him.

Lydia forcefully teared her eyes away from it and marched toward the front entrance with quick steps. She cannot stand seeing things that reminded her of what she had lost and she could only wonder just what Stiles must have felt to be in the house that are so full of the ghosts of the past.

She stopped in front of the wooden door, staring at the piece of wood that stood between her and the memories that would forever haunt her. Normally she would have just entered with the spare key that the Stilinski had given her but Stiles is not here alone, he is with his maternal family and Lydia does not want to come across as rude to the people who would be taking Stiles in.

She barely remembered Claudia Stilinski's family despite having met them a couple of times but she could remember Stiles' aunt with perfect clarity because of the red hair the woman has.

Believe it or not, Lydia used to hate her hair, hate how the red strands always make her stood out and make her be so obviously different than everyone else around her. Her peers used to mock her over it but one day, Stiles had come barreling over to her defense with his liquid amber eyes shining like a ball of righteous fury.

He had exclaimed to the crowd of jeering classmates on how she is special, rattling off the statistic of how red haired people are rare and how it made them beautiful. He even shot down their attempt to prove him wrong, listing off the many red haired women who successful and influential in their world. Bringing in the name of Pepper Potts had them backing away and him talking about his 'kickass' red haired aunt had them running away because all of them knew of the scary red haired aunt Stiles has.

The Incident, as it was called by everyone in town, is enough reminder that Stiles' red haired aunt is not someone to be messed with and she had somehow instilled the fear of God within the core of every students in Beacon Hills academic institutes.

There is a reason why people goes out of their way to not offend Stiles.

After that, they had bonded over the brilliant mind they both shared and it is Stiles who had ultimately helped her love the red hair she had inherited from her grandmother. His constant praises of it had her building her self-confidence and the talk she had with Stiles' red haired aunt had her loving the hair she was born with.

But they had drifted apart when Jackson began to take notice of her and Lydia had foolishly allowed the fame of being the most popular boy's girlfriend blind her. The friendship they had grew too strained and Stiles had been too stricken with grief from the loss of his mother to focus about the world around him.

And just like that, their friendship had come to an end, both separated by the social boundaries that stood between them like looming walls.

Yes, they sometime shared lingering glances at each other from the distance when they had clashed on the academic field, both fighting over for the first place in school but both of them had changed too much to have the bond they once had.

The only good thing that comes out of being dragged into the whole supernatural mess is having the chance to once again be friend with Stiles. It was tentative at best during the start but the hardships they had went through together had allowed for them to get to know the person that both of them had become after their earlier friendship had ended and Lydia is grateful of the second chance she was given.

Sometime she missed the bright-eyed boy who are brimming with optimism and enthusiasm but not everyone can still retain their childhood innocence when they entered the harsh life of teenagers. Yet there are still shadows of the boy she used to know during her childhood years. The unwavering loyalty had always been Stiles' greatest trait is still there and Lydia is glad to see it still being there.

It is understandable that he had lost the childish naivety to the reality of life but sometimes she wished they could just forever be the children living their lackluster life without worrying about anything.

"Can I help you with something lass?"

Turning around to face the owner of the voice, Lydia faltered slightly at the sight of blonde hair and blue eyes before schooling her expression into a faux smile. No matter how long time had passed, the thought of Jackson never left her mind and she could never look at any blonde male with blue eyes without being reminded of him.

"I'm looking for Stiles, is he home?"

Her eyes roved over the man's stocky built and silently noted how handsome he is despite the age. She remembered seeing him at the funeral and she distantly remember seeing pictures of this man amongst the Stilinski album.

So he must have been Stiles' uncle then, if the content of the grocery bag in his arms is anything to go by.

"Well he is about to come back with Phil soon enough. Why don't you wait for him inside Miss….."

"Lydia. Lydia Martin. Nice to meet you."

Lydia interjected when the man trailed with an inquiring air to his tone.

"Ah, the infamous red haired beauty Lydia Martin. Glad to finally put a face to Stiles' serenade of your beauty Miss Martin. Well come on in. The name's Clinton Zieliński by the way but just call me Clint. I'm Stiles' uncle from his mother's side."

A pleased flush made itself present on her cheeks when she heard the man's compliment and felt fond amusement at the mention of Stiles' once upon a time epic crush on her. He must have heard Stiles waxing poetry about her countless of times all those years ago.

"Thank you and I know, Stiles spoke of you." She replied with a wry smile curled on her lips at the half truth.

Stiles did not tell her anything about his maternal side of the family but there are enough evidences of their existence in the house for her to come up with her own conclusion.

The man laughed at that as he unlocked the door and she stepped in after him, closing the door behind her. She focused her attention on the man's back, not wanting for her eyes to stray away and see something that would only remind her of what she had lost.

Lydia followed him into the kitchen and worried her bottom lips when she saw the dining table. If she closed her eyes, she could still remember the perfect image of the family they made as they ate dinner around it and that memory brought forth a fresh wave of grief.

"So, are you two finally together? If you are, then it's about damn time. The kid been mooning over you for years and if I have to hear him moaning about you one more time, I might just set you guys up together myself."

Lydia could hear the fondness in the man's voice and the tender expression on the man's laughing face made her think that the man is more exasperated than irritated by it.

"Actually, we're not." She responded with a hint of regret but quickly pushed it aside.

"Though amusingly enough, it is our parents who ended up together."

Lydia could not help but chuckle softly at the dumbfounded look on the man's face and helped the man put away the grocery into its designated cupboard, already knowing where to put each time because she had been doing it for months now.

Though she silently noted the small amount of it.

So they would not be here much longer then if the amount of food is this little. And that mean Stiles would be leaving her too after this, not that she could blame him because Stiles is still not considered as an adult in the eyes of the law, therefore his custody falls to his nearest living relative, which is his uncle, whom lived in New York.

And that is at least a total of ten hours' journey from Beacon Hills, even if she were to take the plane.

"Wait, you're telling me that you two ended up being siblings instead of lover? Man, what a plot twist. Are you sure you guys are not some cheesy rom com because this is definitely a worthy rom com material."

Lydia laughed but it sounded hollow even to her ears. If only this man knows. Their life would have been much easier if it is only about something as tacky an arc in a romance comedy but no. Their life is a blockbuster worthy supernatural horror series.

"We would have been but John…"

She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence because both of them knows the truth. John is dead and there would be no union between the Stilinski and Martin family. She and Stiles could never be official siblings in the eyes of the laws because their parents did not manage to get married before John died and this man before her would never be her step uncle.

Clint seemed to sense her dwindling thoughts and he had taken on a somber expression as he closed the cupboard. John's death had been too fresh for both of them.

"I understand."

She heard him mumble but she did not take her eyes off of the island countertop, staring at the shiny black marble with a desolate gaze. Being here in this kitchen make everything more surreal to her. She still could not believe that the man she sees as a father is now dead and she would soon be separated with the brother she could have had if all of this nightmare never happened.

A cup of tea was placed in front of her and she gazed at the steaming liquid blankly. The china had been a new addition to the household thanks to her mom and when she raised her head, she could see many of the things that belonged to her and her mother had migrated into this house.

Her eyes prickled with unbidden tears and a stifled shudder wrecked her body as she tried to hold in her sobs. She covered her face with both of her hands so that she could hide herself from the painful truth and also to stop herself from looking at the reminder of her loss as she silently cried into it because it hurts to hold all of the grief in.

She did not protest when muscled arms wrapped around her shoulders and she could only let the tears flow against the man's chest as she was cradled in his arms. She could feel his hand in her hair and hear him whisper words of comfort in her ears.

As she cried her grief into the man's arms, she could not help but notice the similarities this man shared with Stiles. The man made her feel safe, much like how Stiles and John always made her feel when they had their arms around her and it made her wonder if it is a familial trait that they shared.

It took her a couple of minutes to compose herself again she took the tissue the man offered with a nod of silent gratitude. She quickly wiped away the tears and the smudges of mascara to make herself look presentable again and gave the man a small smile when he handed her a mirror to help her.

"Thank you and sorry about bursting into tears like that."

Her voice sounded somewhat gruff from her earlier crying but she felt significantly lighter than she had been before she come here. The pain and grief does not immediately disappear but it felt manageable enough for now and she could finally breathe without feeling like the loss is choking the life out of her.

"Nah, don't worry about it. John was a good man and an even better dad. So I could sympathize with yours and Stiles' lost."

The man before her smiled with the same understanding that she often saw in the Stilinski men's eyes and she is hit with a sudden realization that the men in this household shared so many similarities with each other that it is both unnerving and endearing at the same time.

Seeing this man in front of her, Lydia could not help but wonder if Stiles would grow up having the same laugh line and stocky built as the one that John and this man had. But she quickly dismissed the last part because despite having the broad shoulders, Stiles had always been one for speed and agility. So she could only think of him having a slimmer built, a structure of a runner.

"So tell me about yourself and your mom. I only knew about what Stiles told me but I would like to know my new niece myself."

A warm feeling blossomed in her chest when the man addressed her with that name, happy that the man is acknowledging and accepting of the fact she could have been his niece if John had married her mother. It meant she would still has a family with the Stilinski-Zieliński household even if they did not manage to get united by the law officially.

This man would not sever the ties she and her mother has with Stiles.

With that thought in mind, she told the man about her life, of course omitting the supernatural side but she felt surprisingly willing and light as she talked about herself and her mother to the man who would have become her uncle if none of this happened.

 **So I finally tried to write from Lydia's POV and like Natasha, she is a challenging character to keep in line. I hope I didn't make her too OOC in this. I had always liked the concept of the Martin-Stilinski family and I totally shipped John and Natalie together. I am a lightweight Stydia shipper but I love their strong platonic relationship more than the romantic part, so there will only be a platonic Stydia in this. Sorry for the Stydia fans but I just can't see them as a romantic couple after I start shipping their parents together.**

 **I am experimenting with the interaction between TW and MCU characters and the match of Clint and Lydia just made me excited for some reason.**

 **I haven't watched season 6 of TW yet but there had been word about the Sheriff's name being Noah or something. If that is true, well I will just ignore it because I had totally set in my mind that the Sheriff's name is John, as stated by the tag. The development is too late for me to change my mind and I will just stick with the name John to the end of this story.**

 **And no, I am not bashing Scott in this. Yes I will portray him in a bad light a couple of time but I think I will redeem him in this story. He still has a long way to grow into the True Alpha status and I am utterly smitten with the bromance of Sciles. It kills me to have them on opposite sides. These two will have time to reconcile with each other in the future. *little nugget spoiler***

 **Anyway, as usual, leave a review on the way out. I love reading your thoughts on this new chapter and throw in any constructive criticism you have in mind, I strive to improve myself.**

 **AGAIN, SORRY ABOUT THE ERROR EVEN IF I DON'T KNOW WHY IT HAPPENED.**


	12. Chapter 12

**First of all, sorry for the late update. I got stuck within the dark abyss that is the author's block and had been trying to thaw my way out of it by doing prompts challenge. So far, I am only successful with only one of the prompts, which is Thor x Stiles. I don't know why the pairing appealed to me so much. You guys can go check it out later.**

 **And second of all, *uncontrollable fits of hyperactive giggle* OMG I REACHED 10K+ HITS WITH THIS FIC! You guys are awesome and I love you guys for all of the support you had given me. I never thought I would go this far with this idea when I first decided to post it.**

 **Anyway, sorry for this late update and also thank you to everyone who had commented, kudoed, bookmarked and subcribed my fics, I totally love receiving all of your response to my work!**

He woke up to the sensation of being shaken and his previously closed eyelids snapped open to blearily gaze at the concerned face of his hovering uncle. He blinked a couple of times to clear his vision and shifted away from the position he had fallen asleep in, leaning against the window of the car. Wincing at the throb of pain from his sore neck, he ran an absent-minded hand over it to massage away the crick that had formed there.

Stiles was not surprised he had fallen asleep on the ride back from the hospital. He had been barely able to get enough sleep as it is during the night, always being jolted awake by the nightmare that continued to haunt him during his moment of vulnerable unconsciousness.

The longest sleep he had got after the death of his father was when he was held by both Clint and Natasha and that was four days ago. He longed to be held by them again, knowing full well that their presence at his sides would help to keep the nightly terror at bay but he does not want to burden them anymore than he already did.

It had been a long time since he had last seen them after all and he does not know if they would still be willing to do it like how they often do it during his childhood days. Besides, he is already a teenager for fuck's sake, he is supposed to be able to be in control of his shits and not depend on people.

So he had kept quiet about his nightmare and lack of sleep, even if he is sure that the three adults could see the signs of sleep deprivation lingering on his face. The bags under his eyes grew darker at each passing day and his skin took on a more of a sickly shade of pallor from the many hours he spent cooped up in his room with the curtains drawn shut.

He had been unable to return to sleep after being awaken by the nightmare and this often caused him to fall asleep at odd time and places when the lack of sleep finally caught up with him before being awaken by another wave of soul crushing terror and a silent scream stuck in his throat. He had tried to stay awake by consuming mug after mug of highly caffeinated coffee but the sleep always managed to slip up on him with the sweet promise of oblivion.

He only felt bone deep exhaustion each time he woke up from one of those sleeps and he felt far more drained than he was before he fell asleep. Trying to stay awake become a struggle as the days goes by and he was sure that he looked like a walking corpse to those around him.

But he could not fall asleep, not when he could feel the darkness within him threaten to make a reappearance if he were to even momentarily let go of his control over his conscious mind. Stiles knew the Nogitsune never truly left him like how all of his friends thought it would. The ancient fox spirit is still there, the residue of its essence lurking at the back of his mind like a constant presence that whispered sweet nothing in his ears.

He could feel it, the sickly-sweet temptation of power simmering beneath his skin, tempting and luring him in with the promise of infinite power.

Power that he could have if he just let go.

If he just gives into the fox's enticement.

The Nogitsune had given him a taste of it when he struck Donovan with the wrench and a part deep in him crave for the heady flavor of the power he had tasted. And the worst part is, he wants to have it.

He wants it.

He wants the power.

He wants it for the promise it holds.

He wants it so that he would not be so hapless and helpless anymore.

Stiles had quickly wrenched himself away from that line of thought because he never wanted to relieve the experience he had went through when he was under the crazed fox's influence. Once was more than enough and he does not want to lose anyone else to it ever again.

Allison and Aiden were enough as it is and so does the death of countless many other people whom had fallen prey to the Nogitsune's scheme.

His hands already have enough blood on it to last him a lifetime of nightmare and he does not want to add up to it if he could help it. Not when the last blood belonged to his own father.

Losing his dad to Theo had very nearly crippled him and he would have definitely given into the Nogitsune's lure if his uncle had not returned for him. He would have given into the darkness that had been festering beneath his skin if his uncle had not appeared with the supports he desperately need.

He shuddered to think just how easily it would have been to just give in, to let go of everything and let the Nogitsune take the rein of control to his body again.

Only destruction and chaos awaits.

"Stiles, we're back already. Why don't you go in first, I will take care of the things at the back?"

He bobbed his head in absent minded acquiescence and missed the worried look that marred his uncle's face as he slipped out from the car.

The trip to the hospital had left him bereft and it reminded him too much of the fact that his father had died there.

Both of his parents had.

Though seeing Melissa again helped to ease away the dark memories that threaten to consume him whole and she being there for his checkup had distracted him away from the thoughts of the world beyond the whitewashed walls of the hospital room.

Stiles did not miss the way she talked around the topic of his father's death but he was just too glad to talk with someone who would not rub the reminder in his face when they offered their condolence to him. She asked him on his school plan after he transferred to New York and countless other small topics as she all the while completely steered him away from anything that would bring up the name of her son.

And Stiles loves her more than anything for that.

Melissa had always been a perspective woman to begin with and being a nurse as well as a single mother had ingrained the instinct of looking out for small details into her along the years ago. She was the woman that he had always wanted to be his mother upon his birthmother's death and he and Scott used to talk about it well into the night of their sleepover.

His heart ached at the thought of Scott, the sting of betrayal too fresh for him to think about his brother from another mother in anything other than what his grief addled mind wanted for him to think Scott as. He wanted to blame Scott for all of this because none of it would have happened if Scott had simply believed him about Theo, because it would have been so easy to do so but Stiles knew, oh he knew it very well, he knew that he himself is not completely blameless too.

He too had been fooled by Theo's scheme and his dad had paid the ultimate price for his foolishness. Theo had come after him for the darkness that both of them knew existed in him and it is because of him that Theo had went after his father, whom had been the only thing that kept the darkness at bay.

The death of his father had caused him to be stripped bare from the more often than not ambiguous moral that he used to have and Stiles is not sure that he would be able to be the same bright eyed law enforcement that his father had wished for him to be.

Entering the house of his childhood home, Stiles went straight to the stairs but the sound of a very much familiar voice had him stopping in his track. His sleep depraved brain did not have to put much in effort in putting a name to that voice because he would always recognize that voice no matter what state he is in.

Lydia.

That was Lydia's voice.

Stiles did not spend nearly a decade crushing on someone for nothing after all.

He stood there, silently contemplating his choice at hand. He knew the confrontation between him and Lydia is inevitable, something that he could not avoid forever because Lydia would never allow for him to get off the hook that easily but Stiles does not think he was prepared to see Lydia again so soon after the funeral.

He had feebly hoped that she would not drop by until he was at least on the way to New York but it looks like that choice was taken out of his hand because Lydia is already here, in the house that they would have shared and spend the rest of their life together in if their parents had married before his father's death.

Stiles chewed on the inside of his cheeks as he tuned into the conversation between Lydia and Clint, he could not help but be curious because he had fully expected for Lydia to meet with Natasha first before meeting Clint.

"-hen I dragged him to the mall to get some new clothes because I would not be having a brother who dressed like a slob. I will never understand Stiles' adoration for plaid. Its existence itself is a crime against fashion."

A pang of bittersweet sadness hit him upon hearing it because he fully remembered that day. It was the day that his dad had pulled him aside to ask him about his opinion on Natalie and Stiles had assured his dad more than once that he was fine with her and would be totally happy for him if he decided to propose to her any time soon. Stiles had immediately called Lydia after that and like the good soon to be sister she is, Lydia had decided it is the right time to make a complete overhaul of his whole wardrobe. They spent hours at the mall just to let their parents have the time together and his dad found it hilarious that he was made into Ken doll by his soon to be sister.

That was about a month ago, and Stiles know that dream will never be fulfilled because the ring that his dad had bought is still in the velvet box in his bedside table drawer and not on Natalie's ring finger. His dad never got the chance to propose to Lydia's mother and he would never have that chance again because his luck had run out during his encounter with the chimera.

Now, he will never gain the mother and sister he had fervently wished to have and he had lost his dad before they could even become the family they all had wanted to be.

Shaking his head to banish away that thought, he decided that he had delayed the inevitable long enough. Besides, it is better that he deals with it when the wound is still fresh because he really does not want it to be left to fester.

Better rip off the bands aid now than slowly peeling it away through the festered emotions.

Stepping into the doorway of the kitchen, his eyes met with Clint and his adoptive uncle smiled in acknowledgement over Lydia's head. Stiles felt his breath stuck in his throat at the sight of the red hair that cascade down to the petite waist in rivulet of glossy strands. Lydia's back is to him and Stiles is glad for this short moment of reprieve because he is not yet ready to see the apple green eyes that he had spent years waxing poetic about.

He is not prepared to face the accusation and hate that had been in it in his dream, the loathing and anger for causing the death of the man whom would have brought their family together if he was given the chance to do so.

Though he was only given a few second of reprieve to fortify himself because Lydia is already turning around to face him.

His heart stuttered at the sight of her smile, gentle and genuine in a way that Lydia would have never allowed the public to see but he have had months to get used to it. The two years younger him would have been more than just elated to be at the receiving end of it but the current him felt his heart breaking because he knew what a rarity that smile had become nowadays and now would been an even rarer sight to see because they both had lost the reason to smile.

"Stiles."

"Hey there Lyds."

He tried to smile, he really did but it was as if the muscles of his face forgot how to form a smile and his attempt at smiling ended up being a weak grimace. Their eyes met and he could see understanding shining in those pools of green orbs.

Stiles both loves and hates seeing it.

He was glad that she understands but hate the things that made her understood his situation, no one should be in the place where they understood his lost. Stiles would never wish it upon any of his friends and definitely not on Lydia.

Lydia vacated her seat at the island to close the distance between them and Stiles remained stock still at where he stands despite his very instinct screamed at him to run, to hide from her.

It is too soon.

He is not ready.

He cannot do this.

He can-

"Stop thinking Stiles. I can hear your brain going overdrive from here."

Her voice was light despite the shadow of sadness clouding her eyes and her palm was soft against his cheek. He was so out of it that he had missed Lydia stepping into his space but he did not shy away from her touch, he craves for her warmth just as much as he feared her cold hatred.

Stiles averted his gaze but Lydia would have none of that because she forcefully but at the same time, gently, make him look at her again with the hand she already has on his cheek.

"Look at me."

He did and the enchanting green of her eyes became the central focus of his attention, tunneling his vision to focus solely on her eyes. This is the eyes that he had spent years trying to find the right word to describe the vivid shade of and right now, this pair of eyes is gazing back at him with compassion that made his heart ache.

"You still got me."

Stiles visibly flinched at the word, as if Lydia had slapped him instead of gently caressing his face. That sentence will forever haunt him and Lydia understood why. She is after all the only person he had ever confided in with his fear of losing his loved one and also his history with that sentence.

And he felt hurt that Lydia would use that fear against him.

"Don't look at me like that Stiles. You still got me and I am not going anywhere. I go wherever you go. Don't ever think you're ditching me for New York."

The corner of her red painted lips twitched up in the shadow of a smile that she forced onto herself, trying to lighten up the somber mood between them and Stiles mirrored that half smile. Sometime he wondered if they had ever spent the last decade ignoring each other from the different end of social spectrums.

Because Lydia will always understand the things that he had yet to speak, always see things about himself that even he missed and hear the hidden messages in between the lines that he had spoken.

Not even a decade of separation can change that part of her.

"Alright you two lovebirds, I know for a fact that there's plenty of rooms upstairs. Now I know what it feels like to be the sore thumb who stepped into the intense moment between me and Nat. Shoo. Off you go. Keep it PG because my teeth are already rotting from the fluff."

Clint's amused voice cut through the tension between them and Stiles finally realized just how intimate the two of them must have looked like this, with his arms around her waist and hers around his neck while cradling his face with one of her hand. They looked like two lovers who had just been reunited but to Stiles, it is not different because Lydia had always been his soulmate, the other half of his soul even if their relationship is a platonic one.

His eyes met with Clint's and he sees only sorrow in those pools of blue despite the amusement in his voice. Clint smiled a brittle encouraging smile and Stiles nodded his head in thanks.

"You heard the man. Now if you would follow me my lady, I will lead you to my chamber."

Lydia snorted, completely shattering the subdued air that had been around her and Stiles could not help but grin slightly despite himself.

"You're being ridiculous but lead the way mortal."

She sniffed derisively, playing along with his charade as she flicked a loose strand of her hair over her shoulder. Her gaze was steely and she looked very much commanding like this, like the regal queen Stiles suspect her to be in her past lives.

Offering his arm to her, Stiles waited for her to wrap her daintily hand around his bicep before whisking her away from the kitchen with a playful two fingered salute at his exasperated uncle. He leads her up the familiar step to his room and did not say anything when her grip tightened upon their arrival to the second floor of the house. He just stopped in his track and allowed for her to recompose herself in silence.

Stiles himself was no better than her but he has had days to come to term with it, to accept the fact that they both had lost their father.

The hallway of the second floor was full of pictures, all of it belonging to both him and Lydia and they were hung side by side like it had been like that right from the start. There were even pictures of his mother amongst the mix and Stiles loves Natalie Martin all the more because of that. The Martin matriarch had been so understanding of his and his father's unwillingness to let go of his mother and she had even hung back some of the photos of her that both he and his dad had taken down after her death.

Like mother and like daughter, both of the Martin women are just so understanding of them, the men of the Stilinski.

And there were also the recently taken one amongst the cluster of old memories, photos of them together during their 'family outing' like what his father had so fondly said when he reminiscent about it. Each holding the smiling images of the happiness that they portrayed.

"He's gone."

Stiles felt his heart sink at that but choose not to say anything because he knew Lydia need this, she need to be able to accept this truth so that she could continue of walking. He resorts to pulling her close to his side in a one-armed hug in a show of silent support for her.

"He's really gone. Dad is gone Stiles. I felt it."

He only held her close when her voice wavered, becoming choked off with the sob that wrecked her body. Stiles knew it had been worse for Lydia because of her supernatural ability. She knew all along that their father would not make it out alive and the worst part is, there was nothing she could do to change that.

And she had felt it as much as she saw him breath out his final breath. She had been hearing the premonition being whispered in her ears for hours and knew the moment had come when the hushed whispers become shrill wails.

"I know Lyds. I know."

He whispered into her hair and fully recuperated the full body hug she threw his way. Stiles held her tightly as she sobbed into his shoulders and could not help but wonder how Natalie was dealing with this.

The two of them might have started off on the wrong foot when he and Lydia tried to mend back their friendship during the start of the whole supernatural clusterfuck but Stiles had come to care about her as much as he did Melissa, someone who is like a second mother to him after his mother's death and she would have been his very own stepmother if his dad had managed to marry her before his death.

He made a mental note to go visit her sometime in the future before leaving Beacon Hills. He will not be losing any more family, even if they did not get to officiate it.

"Come on, I still have that roll of tissues from before and also your emergency make up back in my drawer. Mom had a fit when she found that in my wardrobe."

His voice was as tight as his chest but he does not allow for the emotions to overwhelm him. Lydia needs him. She needs him to be strong so that she could crumble down with grief and accept this bitter truth. And Stiles will be strong for her because he would do anything for the people he loves, for his family.

With that said, he somewhat carried her to his room, all the while never breaking the hug they had encased themselves into.

Boxes pilled in one corner of his room and his stuffs was in a mess of chaotic shambles because he had been trying to decide what he should bring with him and what he should leave behind since he managed to convince his uncle to hold onto the house for a while longer.

And the sight of those boxes had Lydia tightening her arms around him.

Stiles sighed softly and wordlessly coaxed her to lie down on the rumpled sheet of his bed, which he soon joined her on because it looks like she would not be releasing him anytime soon, if the death grip she had on his shirt was any indication.

They both laid in his bed in silence, body pressed close with their nose brushing occasionally. The younger him would be having an aneurysm by this point because having Lydia Martin in their bed used to be their once upon a time dream. But right now, Stiles only felt contentment as they shared the comforting warmth of each other's presence.

"You're leaving."

He hummed a noncommittal hum at the statement and choose to wipe away the smudged-up mascara on Lydia's face than responding to her unspoken plea. His fingers were gentle as he swiped away at the stain and he silently noted the dark rings around her eyes, which he was pretty much sure was not her eyeliners.

"Mom said I can go with you. She specifically said it is high time we get out from this Hellmouth and I am blaming you on her Buffy reference."

Their eyes met in a furtive glance and they both snorted at the same time, the hapless giggle that followed after could not be avoided.

Stiles had made it his mission to get their parents up to date with the supernatural lore and had used many supernatural TV series as a cross reference to his very much detailed explanation. It is not his fault that Natalie got hooked on the vampires.

To be fair, Twilight got nothing on Buffy.

"Buffy is awesome, though TVD is more awesome."

"I concur. It helps that the casts were quite easy on the eyes."

"At least they don't sparkle."

"It's their charm Stiles."

"Sparkling vampire Lyds, which part of that doesn't sound disturbing to you? It's basically making their stalking ability null because they sparkled in the shadow. You can't be the creepy night crawler while being a sexy ass that sparkles. That totally doesn't go hand in hand."

"Cheesy romance. They always twist things with their illogical romanced myth."

"If only they know how freaking fugly real vampires are."

"Hush you. Let people dream."

"Not gonna happen."

Their light banter filtered out to a comfortable silence that had become a norm between them and Stiles silently noted that the tight grip Lydia had on his shirt had relaxed considerably as she toyed with the loose strand of his shirt instead of clutching it like a lifeline.

"Mom is seriously letting you come to New York with me?"

Stiles could not help but ask because he is feeling hopeful. Yes, he wanted nothing more than to leave everything behind and run away from it but he would never sever the ties with family, not when he only has a handful to begin with.

Besides, it would be easier to have Lydia with him. He does not think he would be able to keep himself afloat in the chaotic sea that is New York alone whilst dealing with the grief and lost.

"Yes you oaf. I didn't just say it to make you feel better. I totally meant it and mom would come with us too by the way. We already have a house there courtesy of my sperm donor and you're very much welcomed there. I am not letting you go to NY on your own."

Something unraveled in his chest and the tightness that had been choking him eased away as he sagged against her pliant body.

So he will still have them.

He would not lose them.

Good.

That is good.

"Thanks."

He enveloped her in a crushing hug, desperation and relief crashing against each other as he clung to her. She returned his embrace with equal fervor and their body were wound so tightly around each other that onlookers would not be able to discern which limbs belongs to whom.

"That's what family for."

Eyes softening at the endearing sight of the two teenagers curled around each other, Phil slowly closed the door shut. He had gone up to call them down for dinner but from the look of it, he decided it is better to leave the two siblings be.

Besides, it is the most relaxed he had seen his nephew been after the funeral and he would never take that away from him, and perhaps, Stiles would be able to catch up some hours of undisturbed sleep with the girl by his side.

He went back downstairs with the mask of grim determination sliding back into place. Natasha had returned with quite the worrying info from the Beacon Hill Police Department network and Phil is determined to hack his way through it until he reached the bottom of it.

He would not rest until he finally unearthed the truth behind John's death and drag the killer to justice. That is the vow he had made to both his sister and John after he went back to visit their graves.

 **I hope you guys liked it because the platonic Stydia bunny had booted my rational mind off of the high pedestal. I swear I am possessed by something when I start to write because that is not how my mind usually worked. Whoever and whatever that is possessing me is very much adamant in making this fic as dark as possible.**

 **You guys can go challenge me at**

 **(http:)/( .com)/(post/156575672958/2017-prompts-challenge)**

 **Just remove all of the "(" and ")"**

 **Help me melt away the frozen ice chunk that my brain had thrown itself into in its attempt to get close to Capsicle. Though the universe I am writing for is only : Teen Wolf and Marvel, though the later one is more to the Avengers and Thor, with hints of Agent of Shield (which I finally get to watching once I know where to find it)**

 **Anyway, as usual, leave a review on the way out! I love receiving them and hopefully I would still be alive for the next update. The courseworks had been handed out and I might have my hands full with them but I will try to make some time on my works!**

 **Toodles~ 3**


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